Rising dragon, crouching genius
by Shiva's Avatar
Summary: With a flick of a pen a new shen gong wu can reveal a person’s deepest secrets … but what does a certain monk do when he finds out his archenemy’s secrets aren’t quite what he expected? RaixJack – obviously slash
1. Prologue

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Prologue- I think you're kinda pretty when you think you've got a chance …

By Shiva's Avatar

"YOU IDIOT" the lavender ghost wailed, nearly shattering Jack's eardrum despite all his precautions. Sighing, the evil genius removed the earplugs he had slipped in earlier, probably the sole reason he could still hear at all. After months of Wuya's endless, not to mention high pitched, insults and sarcasm, he'd learned that only through the use of drastic measures was he ever going to get peace and quiet … and he knew that this tactic would only work until the diminutive ghost thought to phase far enough in his head so that she could bypass any physical attempts to drown her out. Jack didn't relish the day she thought of that, having her phase through his skull was creepy enough, without the added bonus of having to hear her nag him there to boot.

"What! What! What already!" Jack yelled, trying to stop the ghost before it went on one of its seemingly endless rants about how terrible a villain he was.

"As I said, TWICE … a new item has appeared! We must hurry and seek it out before those Xiaolin fools get a hold of it!"

Jack sighed again, and looked back to his current project. High end metals, tools and circuitry lay scattered across the floor next to a sheet of paper covered in his cramped handwriting. Just glancing at that sheet reminded Jack of all the time and energy he had already poured into this project. This was going to be his masterpiece, a break through that would make all his other Jack-bots look like the pieces of scrap Jack knew they were. Sure he wouldn't be able to SHOW this particular piece to anyone, but …

"Stop your infernal daydreaming! There is work to be done you foolish child!" Wuya screamed, shoving her ethereal face into his own, her tiny hands shaking in the air. Her eyes were still tinted back showing an image of the shen gong wu, which in this case appeared to be nothing more then a large black book. Jack looked from Wuya's misshapen irises to the parts lying scattered in front of him, biting his lip in thought.

"Meh, let the losers have this one, I'm busy" he said with a shrug, picking up the sheet of paper and mentally reviewing his math. Everything had to be absolutely perfect for this project. He tried his best to hurry, knowing his apathy wasn't going to go over so well with his partner. Indeed, before he could skim half the page Wuya began to rave.

"WHAT! How stupid are you? Do you know how little wu we have left? And we all know what fate awaits whatever moronic invention you're wasting time on! It'll be destroyed with a mere kick by one of the Xiaolin apprentices, whom you seem to habitually underestimate. Furthermore it is crucial the black book of Exedon not fall into their power!" the small ghost screeched before continuing on to her usual litany of complaints … how stupid Jack was, how much better her monsters were compared to his machines … how she could have conquered the world by now if she only had her corporal body …

Jack rolled his eyes and mimicked her with a hand, hoping that would annoy her enough that she would fly off and sulk for awhile, giving him a chance to continue his work.

"Do you have any IDEA the powers of the black book of Exedon?" Wuya asked, her voice becoming all but a sneer and her left eye twitching in barely suppressed rage.

"Ummm, contains all the phone numbers of Exedon's girlfriends?" Jack asked, snickering at his own joke. "Get it black book? Phone numbers …"

"No" Wuya cut him off. "Once held, its owner need only write another's name into the book in order to learn their deepest and darkest secrets" the ghost paused, allowing that to seep into her less then enthusiastic cohort. She watched with a small amount of perverted joy when Jack swallowed hard and his entire body tensed.

"Wha … what do you mean by deepest and darkest secrets?" he managed to choke out a few seconds later, his tone that low pitched whine that informed Wuya she had struck a nerve.

"It means that if those Xiaolin fools get a hold of the book, you'll have nothing left to hide" Wuya said, her tone clearly gloating.

The sheet of paper slipped out of Jack's hand, as he considered all the frightening possibilities that could mean. If they gained control of this wu, it would be spell disaster for him. It would do more then give Clay and Omi fodder for taunts … It would do more then change their fighting tactics against him … It would change everything. They'd learn about his secret project … his secret obsession. It would mean that _he'd_ find out everything …

Tasting blood, Jack managed to free himself from the downward spiral of thinking. He hadn't even realized he was chewing his lip …

But this could work out yet. If he, Jack Spicer, managed to get the book first … then not only would he have a huge advantage against the Xiaolin warriors but he could also get a few personal questions answered … _without_ having to make a fool of himself and ask. Not to mention the fact that if he had the book, he could lock it away someplace no one would ever find it when he was done … meaning he never had to risk anyone finding out the facts of his life he'd prefer not to share.

Jack shuddered, it didn't take an evil genius to figure out how badly he needed to win.

Without his usual snappy retort to Wuya, Jack spun around and grabbed the monkey staff from a lab table. He surprised the ghost by just starting his rotors without calling for his slew of robotic minions; he didn't even spare a second glace in the mirror to make sure every stray hair was perfect. He didn't have time to waste today, he needed to win. No doubt Omi had convinced the others to charge after the shen gong wu the minute their pet dragon had started scratching his rear … meaning he was already behind. But he could catch up … he could win …

No, scratch that … he needed to.

* * *

Author's notes -

Hya folks!

I just wanted to mention/explain a few things …

1) This is a piece of slash fan fiction … which WILL be predominant throughout the later chapters. If for some reason boy-boy love bothers you … you might want to find yourself another fic to read.

2) I am (sadly) a review whore. Indulge me with a review, and I'll try and return the favor.

3) All in all (if my outline works out) this fic should be about eleven chapters long and then an epilogue (most chapters being significantly longer this one)

4) Wuya is not meant to sound like a pestering child in this chapter (she rants and wails because that's all she CAN do … seeing as she can't physically do anything, and her heylin magic is denied to her). Meaning though she may sound like a pissed off kid wanting a new toy … her motives are a lot more deep then people give her credit for (and I mention this because I think Wuya tends to get a bum rap … but hopefully I should be able to expand upon her character later).

Thanks for reading! See you next chapter …

Shiva's Avatar


	2. Chapter one

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter one- And you look so adorably desperate, when you're hiding you romance

By Shiva's Avatar

Omi's grin covered his face as he hefted the black book above his head. Finding this particular shen gong wu had been most challenging for the young monk and his friends, as they'd been forced to hunt through a jungle in southern Peru, with only Dojo's backside rash to guide them. It hadn't been fun, it hadn't been easy, but they had triumphed over evil once again, managing to get the wu before Jack Spicer even made his customary appearance.

"The house! The house! The house is on fire!" Omi sang indulging in a small dance, trying to copy what he had seen Raimundo do, after the other boy had mastered a particularly difficult kick-punch routine. Clay gave him an indulgent smile, while Kimiko hid a giggle behind her hand.

"It's, 'the roof is on fire', dude. The roof is on fire" Raimundo corrected with a sigh, rubbing a temple. The wind dragon had thought the hardest part about being a Xiaolin monk was going to be the training, or the lack of physical comforts, or the dealing with magical forces on a near daily basis … but no. He'd come to adjust to everything else, from the fact that he still lacked a bed, to the eight hours a day of training, to the confusing and often clichély named shen gong wu. He'd adjusted to it all, save Omi's inability to make a metaphor that didn't suck. He sighed again, as the smaller monk hastily corrected himself, and continued his mockery of a dance, waving the book above his head in delight.

Raimundo almost laughed aloud a moment later when the book was ripped from Omi's hands by a flying Jack Spicer. Raimundo was more then willing to admit he was a bit bitter at the water dragon's constant badgering about how he needed to be more serious and vigilant, so it took all his self-control to not burst into laughter when irony slapped the minute monk. Who could have known that without his posse of robots, their would-be villain could actually move with a fair degree of stealth?

"Heh, thanks losers," Jack said, flying as high the trees would allow. Then, without his normal barrage of taunts, he took off to the right, heading for a break in the trees, so he could make a quick airborne escape.

"Excellent! See how well things go when you don't waste time with your insufferable gloating!" Wuya said, grinning her fang studded smile as she hovered beneath him. Jack just rolled his eyes at her.

"Stop this moment Jack Spicer! That is a most valuable wu, one not to be held by your evil and most unwashed hands! I demand you come back here immediately and return it!" Omi yelled, shaking a fist at the fast retreating figure.

Jack couldn't help himself but turn around and toss a snide comment back, he simply had to reply to a statement that ludicrous … that and he resented the insult that he didn't wash his hands. Alright, so they might be covered in oils and paints every now and again … but that wasn't from lack of washing … no, that was the result of spending all of your free time building a vast robotic army.

"Do you even listen to yourself, you bald little dope? I'm the bad guy … remember! That means I do things like NOT play fair... And …" Jack's eyes hardened, and his voice raised a few octaves "I wash my hands a lot, thank you! YOU try building and maintaining over two hundred robot minions and see how clean your hands are! Loser, you probably couldn't even make a remote controlled car move with the remote in your hands…"

Wuya heaved a sigh as the serious Jack she had arrived with dissolved to become the whinny, megalomaniac child she knew all to well. She was keenly aware that had he just continued flying they could have made off the wu, but no … no, he just had to indulge in his catcalls. Therefore, it didn't surprise Wuya when Raimundo reached into his pocket, flipped a coin, and then kicked off of several trees to tackle the airborne Spicer. With another sigh, she realized that Jack's incompetence had just cost her another shen gong wu. She watched with an irritated frown, as Jack's propeller backpack gave out from Raimundo's added weight, sending both boys on a collision coarse with the unforgiving ground below them.

The two slammed into the ground hard, Raimundo's fall slightly cushioned by a screaming Jack. The monkey staff, mantis flip coin and book of exedon falling from their various owners when they impacted the ground, scattering in various directions around them.

Jack's screams stopped when his back hit the grassy earth, knocking the wind from him. A second later, his mind struggled to process what had just happened. Raimundo was on top of him … but not exactly in the way Jack had always hoped he would be. His rear was sore … but not from the activity that should have caused such bruising. Jack coughed, as he strained to start breathing again, as one single thought raced through his brain …

"_Damn … Raimundo is HEAVY!"_

Raimundo's first thought was to go after the assorted wu, but he hesitated when he realized that Jack wasn't moving. Unlike the monks, Jack wasn't known for his physical endurance or ability to take a blow. In fact, Jack Spicer, self-proclaimed boy genius was far better known for falling to his knees and pleading to not be struck, rather then suffer a blow he deserved. Realizing he was still half-kneeling on him, Raimundo hastily hopped off Jack, and gave him a worried look. A few seconds later though, the villain coughed, and lifted his head to give Raimundo a withering look.

"_Alright, bet that hurt. Your pissed, got 'cha" _Raimundo thought, as turned his attention from Jack to search for the troublesome wu that had caused all of this. Spotting it, he leapt over Spicer, rolled twice, grabbing the book when he came up from his roll. Jack, meanwhile, had somehow managed to crawl over, and likewise grabbed a corner of the book.

"Ra … Raimun …do … I … cha …challen …ge … you …to ..a …a …" Jack tried to say, still gasping for air.

"_Wow … he really wants this wu…" _Raimundo thought to himself, giving Jack a grudgingly impressed look … but only said;

"Whatever. I accept your challenge Spicer,"

Jack nodded in understanding, and sat down for a few minutes to catch his breath, his left hand still keeping a tight grip on the contested wu. He thought he'd caught a brief look of concern on Raimundo's face earlier, and tried to ponder what that could mean. Or figure out if it had been nothing more then a pain produced delusion. He turned to stare at Raimundo's face, trying to see if a flicker of worry still remained.

Perfectly tanned skin, blended flawless into strongly chiseled features, clearly defined by a gravity defying hairstyle that matched Jack's own. Strong lips were pulled into that smug half-smile Raimundo always seemed to wear, while a pair of emerald green eyes sparkled with impatience.

Jack felt his face redden a bit, mentally cursed himself, and turned his head to stare at the nearby trees … trying desperately to formulate a plan. Hormones aside, he hadn't totally forgotten what all this was about … he hadn't forgotten the power that the seemingly innocent book they were both holding contained.

"Alright," Jack said once he caught his breath and felt his blush fade, ignoring the lingering pain along his spine. "My monkey staff versus your mantis flip coin. First one to climb that tree wins"

Raimundo nodded, and the magic of the Xiaolin showdown began to take effect. Where once had stood large tree, about ten foot high, now stood something five times as big. That one tree seemed to become a jungle all by itself … a virtual mountain of branches and wood. Just looking at it made Raimundo's arms hurt.

"**GONG YI TAMPAI!"** both shouted, issuing the formal challenge.

Raimundo picked up his coin, and prepared to invoke its magic, when he heard Jack call out his name. Expecting a taunt, or some long winded rant about how he was going to lose, Raimundo tuned Jack out. Kept his focus on the giant tree in front of him, just wanting to get this contest over and done with.

Or at least that's where he kept his focus until his head exploded in a typhoon of pain. Jack, taking advantage of his obvious distraction had used the monkey's staff as the weapon it resembled, slamming his opponent in the back as hard he could muster. Raimundo flew forward, rolling to absorb some of the momentum, then shook his head to try and rid himself of the flashing colors obscuring his sight.

The other xiaolin monks met that piece of foul play with a chorus of jeers and boos … but were helpless to otherwise intervene. Even Wuya cringed when she saw the powerful shen gong wu reduced to play the role of a baseball bat in the hands of a would be thug.

Jack, ignoring all of them, invoked the monkey staff, and reveled in his new found prowess. Of all the shen gong wu, this one had always been his favorite, and with his new found strength and agility, there was no way Raimundo could beat him. With a primal scream, he beat his chest twice, transferred the staff to his tail, and then began scaling the tree with a skill no human could imitate.

"Come on Rai! You can't let him win with some dirty trick like that!" Kimiko yelled, trying to snap Raimundo out of his stupor.

"Yeah! You get that no good varmint!" Clay added. "Make 'em bawl like a hogtied pig in the middle of a bacon factory!"

Shaking his head Raimundo tried to get his bearing. He had a splitting headache, Jack was almost halfway up the tree, and his mantis flip coin was no where in sight. He scrambled on the grounds, knowing he needed that coin if he was to have any chance of winning at all. He growled as dug through the thick grass, until her finally spotted the wooden disk. Grabbing it he looked to see Jack almost at the top, while his friends looked at the ground in dismay, trying to hide their doubt in him.

"_Thanks for your faith in me guys" _Raimundo thought bitterly, studying the tree in front of him. There had to be a way to still win this … some way to beat that cheating rat. A jutting branch a few feet off the bottom sparked an idea, and Raimundo feverishly prayed that it would work. He climbed as quickly as he could to reach that branch, then carefully tested it to see if it would hold his weight.

"Raimundo! This is not a sitting contest! Climb! CLIMB! Get the lead up already!" Omi yelled, furiously pointing upwards.

Raimundo ignored Omi's eighth failed metaphor of the day, and put his full weight on the branch. It held. He heaved a sigh of relief, and hoped it would hold though everything he was about to put it through. He walked to the end of the branch, and felt the wood bend, still holding. Raimundo concentrated as he prepared for his only shot at winning this showdown. He jumped up and down on the branch twice, calling on his element to keep the branch steady. Coming down from the second jump, he felt the wood bend down just enough …

"Mantis flip coin!" he yelled, feeling the power of the wu flood through his body. Using the recoil of the branch, combined with the power of the flip coin, aided by his wind element, Raimundo felt himself soar through the air, at a speed he hadn't known possible.

Jack meanwhile had reached the top of the tree and held out an eager hand to retrieve the book. He hadn't liked hitting Raimundo, but better that then having the monk privy to his secrets. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of color as something rapidly raced towards him. Had he simply grabbed the book then, he could have won the battle … had he simply plucked the floating book from the sky it would have been his …

But Jack Spicer was nor a warrior, and alarmed by the prospect of being hit and knocked from another tree today, flinching back seemed like a sensible option. Rather then be hit he cringed back, allowing Raimundo a chance to grab his branch, swing himself around it, and then land atop it. Jack saw his cheeks were flushed in pleasure as the monk's body stepped up to the challenge of conquering the tree … while those emerald eyes gleamed as the boy delighted in the thrill of it all. What had been one sided a second ago had transformed to a neck-to-neck race.

Jack lunged. Raimundo lunged.

Raimundo was taller by a quarter of an inch.

Smiling, Raimundo watched the scenery return to its normal state, the black book of exedon cradled in his arms, his headache a small price to pay for this prize.

Jack felt tears threaten his flame tinted eyes, and frantically forced them back. He wasn't going to cry here … there had to be some way to salvage all of this …

One look at Raimundo all but dashed those hopes though. He was wearing _that_ smirk … the smirk Jack knew all to well. He was usually the one wearing it after all. It as that smirk he wore just as he was about screw someone over with some new form of treachery.

"I'm sorry …" Jack muttered, his broken tone far to low for anyone else to hear, save the nearby Dojo who turned to give the evil boy genius a questioning glare. No other words escaped his lips though, as he plotted one final plan … one last desperate hope of keeping his secret …

Though in his mind, Jack let the sentience play to its full completion.

"_I'm sorry … for everything … all the taunts, all the schemes, all the worthless fucking stolen wu … and most of all I'm sorry … so very, very sorry … for falling in love with you … Raimundo …" _

* * *

Author's notes;

Niaho all!  
Just a few quick things …

1) Sweet holy moogles! You all know how to a boy feel welcome! Thank you all so very, very much for your feedback (I promise I won't disappoint you!)

2) This was my first attempt at writing a battle scene … ever … but I thought it necessary to have at least one showdown in the fic. The romance and angst come full tilt next chapter, so prepare yourselves (Hope you all liked the build-up :grins:).

3) The chapter titles are weird for a reason. When fully completed they will make a poem (my original goal was to put them in drop box, so when people went to go and pick a chapter to read they'd see it written there … but they're unfortunately to long). I'll make sure to include the entire thing in the last chapters author's notes … but if you're questioning the chapter titles, that's the reason they seem so "special".

4) I wanted to include some character motivation in each others notes (kinda like what I did with Wuya last chapter, but to a more in-depth degree). That's coming out longer then expected though … so rather then make obscenely long author's notes, its going to get it's own story (once I've finished writing/editing it). So look forward to that …

5) I forgot last chapter, and won't include it in any of the others but …

-Generic Disclaimer- I do not own the television show Xiaolin Showdown in any way shape or form.

--Anywho, that's all I've got for now. Thank you again for your reviews, and I hope to hear from you all again!

Thanks for reading! See you all next chapter!

-Shiva's Avatar-


	3. Chapter Two

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Two- You fought so hard, you had to lose, and now your secrets out …

By- Shiva's Avatar

Jack closed his eyes, and mentally reviewed everything he knew about the Xiaolin group, particularly about Raimundo. As usual, everything he needed was recalled not only with lightning swift ease, but also with perfect clarity. Focusing on simple facts aiding in his efforts to fight back tears. Though few would guess it, especially after seeing the constant post it notes to himself and his childlike demeanor, Jack had a photographic memory. Skimming a book once, he could recite it years later without a single error. He'd learned in kindergarten though that was a skill one kept hidden, because it had the unfortunate side effect of attracting all kinds of attention.

With a shudder, Jack couldn't help but remember the overpriced private kindergarten he'd been sent to. Could still vividly recall his teacher's constant accusations that he was cheating, simply because he never got a question wrong. Remembered trips to the principal's office because he'd grown bored with hearing the endless repetition his slow learning peers needed, so had dared to bring his own books to read. What he remembered most clearly though, was the cutting taunts of his classmates. It wasn't that they lacked any means to insult him already … his flaming mane of hair, abnormal red eyes, shrill nasally voice and his petite girlish figure had gained him the unwelcome cruelty of his peers since the first day of class. But they seemed to take extreme offense if such a freak showed them up in any endeavor. One girl especially, Ashley Pandleton, had made sure to make his life a living hell whenever he outdid her. In fact she'd …

Jack forcefully shoved the memory aside, turning his full attention back to the matter at hand, ignoring Wuya who was floating beside him, verbally berating him for his failure. He knew what he had to do, and procrastinating wasn't going to make it any easier. With a quiet sigh, he opened his eyes, and took stock of his rivals. Their pet dragon was in his large form, and already Kimiko and Clay were sitting on his scaled back. Omi, monkey staff in hand, was in mid-leap to board the dragon, while Raimnudo was crouching down, readying for his jump. Heaving another sigh, Jack knew it was now or never … and knew that no matter which way it went, this was not going to be a pleasant affair.

"Hey! Raimundo!" he called out. The wind dragon pivoted and held an arm up defensively, keeping the black book of Exedon firmly clutched in the other hand. Jack resisted the fierce temptation to smirk … even when he'd beamed Raimundo for all he was worth; he hadn't really hurt the boy. But ever the trained monk, Raimundo wasn't going to let down his guard again.

"What do you want NOW Spicer?" Raimundo asked, wanting an aspirin far more then he wanted to deal with anymore of his archenemies tricks. The look on Jack's face surprised him though. It wasn't his signature look of defeat … but some kind of appraising look as he looked not at Raimundo, but at the shen gong wu in his hand. For some reason, that look sent a cold shudder down his spine.

"I want to make a trade," Spicer said, quickly walking over to his backpack. One propeller was still trying to feebly rotate, while the other lay there twisted beyond repair. Avoiding contact with still revolving metal, Jack dug into his backpack and pulled the shroud of shadows. Ignoring the flayed ends on the magical silk, he turned around and held it out for Raimundo's inspection.

"… Wait a minute. You're telling me you want to trade the shroud of shadows, for this?" Raimundo asked, lifting an eyebrow and gesturing towards the book he still clenched firmly. Jack nodded.

"Oh, come off it Jack! We know what the book does, and we're not about to let YOU know our secrets" Kimko snorted, giving Jack an amused look. He shot her a cold glare, instantly killing her smile.

"I wasn't talking to you Kimiko, I was talking to Raimundo. So do you think you could kindly shut the hell up for a few goddamn minutes?" Jack's tone had changed, losing its whinny quality to become chillingly authoritarian. Jack kept his gaze locked with her for a few seconds, then adverted his glare to Clay, cutting the cowboy off before he could speak in defense of his friend. Then he turned back to a very startled Raimundo.

Because the others didn't matter. Not Kimiko, dressed in some black cloth/fishnet outfit mix, complete with curled hair that seemed to be augmented with strategically placed hair extensions … the whole ensemble seeming more at home in a Cher music video then in a Peruvian jungle. Not Clay, dressed in his cowboy attire, still speaking with that grating southern drawl. Not Omi, still wearing his monk robes, and no doubt waiting for the most crucial moment to belt out some completely moronic, not to mention totally unrelated and utterly incoherent. Raimundo was the one holding the book … Raimundo was the only one that mattered.

"I'm actually offering up more then just the shroud of shadows. I've got the third arm sash, the reversing mirror, and the golden tiger claws. All that should be more then enough for that one little wu," Jack said, his voice sounding unnaturally eerie without its high pitched quality.

"Right, like I'm just going to hand over the book, while you run off and bring the other shen gong wu here. Pffft, right. Like I'm ganna fall for that one," Raimundo said, rolling his eyes, more unnerved then he cared to admit. He'd never heard Jack swear before, had never seen him look so serious. He watched as Jack crumpled the shroud of shadows into a ball, then reflexively caught it when the red haired teen threw it at him. Blinking, Raimundo stared down at the silken cloth dumbfounded.

"Tell me where you want to meet and I'll bring them. No tricks, no games, just trading." Jack said, crossing his arms, still giving Raimundo that appraising look.

Wuya, having fallen silent when she realized Jack was no longer paying attention to her rant, gnashed her fangs as her smoky form swelled and rippled in her rage. She was not about to lose all her hard earned wu, especially for something that would do little to gain her any more of the mystical artifacts.

"You little FOOL! How DARE you try to make this kind of deal! We hardly have any wu left … and no amount of information will help clumsy, inept YOU win a xiaolin showdown. I COMMAND you to stop this idiocy at once!" she screamed, head expanding, so that fangs the size of stalagmites came dangerously close to Jack's face.

Jack turned away briefly from Raimundo to give his evil mentor a detached, and pointedly unafraid, look.

"Shut-up Wuya," he said calmly, before turning back to Raimundo. "So, what do you think? We got a deal?"

Raimundo stared at Jack as if the other boy had sprouted another head, and even Wuya seemed unnerved by his sudden maturity. The ghost had faded back down to a smaller size, and was floating behind Jack, well out of his peripheral vision, her expression one of extreme displeasure. Jack's unwavering stare made Raimundo take an involuntary step back …

"I don't know … I kinda need sometime to think about …" Raimundo began.

"Fifty thousand dollars," Jack cut him off.

"… WHAT!" Raimundo wasn't the only one yell that out, as three other monks, a dragon, and a lavender ghost chorused it.

"Exactly what I said Raimundo. You give me the book, I give you all my wu, and fifty grand. I'll even write you the check now," from some hidden pocket Jack produced a checkbook, and an extravagant gold pen.

"Look, Spicer I need time to think about …"

"A hundred thousand,"

"I'm not ganna just let you BUY this wu offa …"

"Two hundred,"

Raimundo had flinched at a hundred thousand, and Jack noticed that the tell-tale signs of greed as the price increased. Any friends he had ever made were through his family's fortune, buying camaraderie that seemed to come naturally to everyone else. Raimundo would cave, just like all the others … and Jack hated himself for that. Because he knew exactly why Raimundo would sell out …

"Spicer, I don't want your money …" Raimundo's voice suddenly sounded desperate, and he stopped making eye contact. Jack sighed; it wouldn't take much more …

"Five hundred thousand. Come on Raimundo, you know Querida's bills are expensive, bet that much money would really help your mom afford UFRJ …"

Jack wasn't surprised when Raimundo's green eyes suddenly flew up, and the monk's free hand clenched into a fist. On the other hand, he was surprised to see the wind dragon's face suddenly turn an ugly shade of red. Jack felt an incisor dig into his lower lip; maybe he shouldn't have mentioned Querida.

"How the FUCK do you know about my baby sister!" Raimundo growled, strongly tempted to drop the book and just ruthless beat the answer out of his enemy.

"Please. You think I haven't used part of the Spicer fortune to find about all of you?" Jack pretended to play with one of his nails, hoping he could still salvage this. "I know all about all of you, I don't even really NEED the book of Exedon. I already know all your secrets … Raimundo you've got a sister with leukemia, Clay's good old mom had an abortion when she was sixteen, Kimiko's mom was a gold digger and divorced her dad four years ago, and Omi … well … well Omi's a loser who's been cloistered in a temple his entire life"

Jack thought it prudent not to mention the fact that he had a file on Raimundo that was the size of all the others put together. He even had a copy of the other boy's birth certificate, and copies of some of his baby pictures. Jack briefly wondered if those details alone pushed from being "well informed" into stalkerish.

Kimiko and Clay kept their eyes focused on Dojo's bored back, ashamed of the secrets they'd worked so hard to keep from their fellows. Omi, emotionally unharmed, did what he did best. Blurted out questions.

"Kimiko … what is a 'gold digger' and why did your mother not simply mine for the gold … rather then marrying your dad who makes toys? Clay … how did your mother have an 'abortion' and how come you never told me about it? Can I have one next time we visit? Raimundo … what's 'leukemia' and how did your sister come to obtain it? Might I have some?"

Kimiko and Clay sunk down deeper, cringing as Omi unintentionally poured gallons of verbal salt on reopened emotional wounds. Raimundo twisted around and gave Omi the most fearsome glare the bald monk had ever received … and as he would explain it to master Fung later …

"If looks could hurt, I would have been MOST injured".

"So Raimundo, what do you say?" Jack asked, noticing that some of his black nail polish was chipped, probably form his fall earlier.

"What … do … I …say!" Raimundo's words were more of a growl then a sentience. "I think you've got a hell of 'a lot of nerve to ask for anything!"

Jack tried, and failed, to suppress a wince. This was bad. Maybe if he upped the ante Raimundo would stop being angry … or at least wouldn't hit him.

"A million?" Jack asked more then stated, his voice losing the edge it had earlier, to be replaced by his patented whine.

Looking down at his fingers, Jack never saw Raimundo's red face deepen to become a disgusting scarlet hue, never saw the boy suddenly charge forward, using his element to help him move faster. Jack did, on the other hand, feel the punch Raimundo delivered to his jaw. A slug that knocked Jack from his feet, and left him lying sprawled on the ground, pain radiating from a bruise he could already feel forming.

Before Jack could even thank his lucky stars that his jaw wasn't broken, Raimundo had grabbed him by the scruff of his trench coat, and had lifted him so they were face to face, his other hand balled up into an extremely intimidating fist.

"You've got no right to mess with people like that dude," Raimundo's tone was soft, lethal, and even though Jack knew it was just the prelude to getting his ass kicked, he couldn't help but notice Raimundo's breath smelled minty fresh.

"Ya know, in fact I wish YOU knew how it feels to have someone suddenly just out …" Raimundo stopped, a smirk suddenly appearing on his face. Jack couldn't help but shudder seeing the ghastly interaction between the smug smirk he'd fallen for, and the blotchy red anger still vibrant in the face so close to his own. With one fluid movement Raimundo shoved back down and scanned the ground. Spotting Jack's pen, he picked it up, and jogged over to where he had discarded the black book of exedon. Kicking the shroud of shadows off to the side, he picked up the book, and waited for Jack to sit up, the evil genius rubbing his wounded jaw, before cracking the book open.

"Pay back time Spicer," Raimundo said with a slight sneer, watching Jack's eyes grow wider by the second. Raimundo uncapped the pen with his teeth, spitting the golden top into some nearby buses, before setting the tip down to yellow colored parchment.

Before he could start writing though, a large claw placed itself over the book. Dojo, having avoided the conflict thus far, suddenly intervening.

"I know your upset Rai … but maybe you should wait before doing this … this is one of those things you can't take back …" the dragon began sagely, only to be interrupted as Raimundo pulled the book out from beneath the claw.

"Don't care," was all the wind dragon said, before writing in his cramped boy handwriting …

Jack Spicer.

Instantly the book's magic took affect. Words appearing letter by letter, spelling out the life and soul of the printed name in elaborate aristocratic font.

_Jack Michael Spicer (jr.)_

_Birth date- 6/4/1989 (age-17)_

_Zodiac sign- Gemini_

_Chinese zodiac sign- snake_

_Born- At Advocate Good Shepherd Hospital (at 12:37am)_

_Hair color- Red_

_Eye color- Red_

_Current height- 5'7 (birth height- 50.5cm)_

_Current weight – 121 pounds (birth weight-5.4 pounds)_

_Hero- Nar Chess / Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Friends- Circe Bldbne, Raimundo Pedrosa, Kimiko Tohomiko, Clay Bailey, Omi Eniggmoa, various nonliving entities (aka- Jackbots)_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Career aspirations- inventor/mechanical engineer_

_Pets – Samson (thoroughbred Doberman)_

_Family members- _

_Mother- Ophelia Romano (House wife, suffers from various psychiatric ills … -see history for details-)_

_Father- Jack Spicer (Former drug lord who played the stock market well, currently worth 8.2 billion. Currently in Northern Africa …_

Already the page was filled with the large font, though Raimundo could easily see that it continued on, the letters appearing on later pages as if scribbled by some frantic scribe, spilling out more and more of his rivals secrets. Originally intending to read it out loud, Raimundo had chocked when he hit the hero section … then had lost his voice completly when he read on to the love interest.

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

No matter how many times he reread that sentience, it kept reading the same thing.

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

"Dojo … I think this wu is busted," he tried, feeling his smirk slipping to become a sickly smile at best. The dragon's silence spoke volumes.

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

Finally he tore his eyes off the book, and looked at Jack. The bruise he'd given the red haired boy stood in sharp contrast to his pale skin … much like the trickle of blood seeping through the boy's lower lip, an incisor still digging into flesh. Rabbit eyes darted around frantically, looking anywhere but at him. Soft sniffling sounds warned that tears were hardly being repressed.

Raimundo opened his mouth, not sure if he wanted to apologize or accuse, and after a moment of leaving it half open, he wordlessly closed it. Slamming the book of exedon shut, he pivoted and leapt onto Dojo's back …

"Let's go home Dojo …" was all he said to the other's questioning looks.

Dojo said nothing as he heaved himself into the sky. His ascent blowing the forgotten shroud of shadows into some nearby bushes. Though the dragon flew quickly, it wasn't out of range of when harsh screams filled the air.

Throwing back his head Jack screamed horse animalistic screams, trapped in the memory of Raimundo hitting him, reliving the reminiscence of Raimundo's disgusted tone, horrified by the knowledge that soon Raimundo … perfect, remarkable irreplaceable Raimundo was going to know everything he'd tried so hard to hide. Jack kept screaming, long pain ridden screeches, hoping that it would take away some of the pain. And then broke down into sobs when that didn't work.

Dojo stopped and hesitated when the horrific screams filled the air. He looked back to Raimundo, in askance, and slowly floated forward when the monk shook his head "no". Dojo and the other monks kept turning back, trying to see if something was attacking their nemesis … if he was in need of some aid they could offer.

But staring down at Raimundo's scaly back, Raimundo thought he knew the truth … figured the same line that kept cycling through his mind was what tearing Jack apart. Those same pitiless four words … impossible to misinterpret.

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_Love interest- Raimundo Pedrosa_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Author's notes;

Niaho again! Just thought I'd mention some things …

1) :happily munching cookies out of the basket he was given: as per always, your reviews made my day. Thank you all for those who reviewed.

2) I am college now … as those of you attend/have attended school know, school eats up vast quantities of your free time. Please forgive me if my updates are a touch more sporadic.

3) A lot of the names are important … and most them fun little pieces of word/literature play – 10 points to the person that can figure them all out (and another ten points to whoever can find all the foreshadowing :grins: )

4) Kimiko's outfit … :nervous chuckle: as we're all well aware, it changes day by day … so I needed to do something newish for her. Unfortunately, I have no fashion sense (and worse, I'm a guy, meaning I know next to nothing about girl's clothing). I've already razzed some female friends to help me construct outfits for her later, so hopefully this will be the first and last time she's dressed in something that hangs in the questionable void of good taste.

5) Advocate Good Shepherd Hospital/UFRJ … both are hospitals I found randomly using google (Advocate Good Shepherd hospital is somewhere in Illinois, while UFRJ is in Rio).

6) Jack's zodiac/Chinese zodiac sign. Being a dork, I like to play with the zodiac signs. I figured he made a really good Gemini (and the whole good/evil Jack thing amusingly worked with the twin star theme). That being said, I subtracted his age from the current year, which is what landed him with the year of the snake (which I wrinkled my nose at, but I think I'm biased because I wanted him to be born in the year of the monkey for amusement factor…).

Now, to the actually IMPORTANT author's notes …

7) Jack's maturity is not OCC. There are hints this chapter (and next chapter you'll really get to see a lot of the messy details) about why he is the way he is. On a completely related note, if any of you have read the book "Sybil", Hattie is the woman who Jack's mother is loosely based on in my notes (she's not as bad, but she sure as hell isn't going to win any mother of the year awards). That's all the hints I'm giving now, but keep reading and you'll see there is a reason why he blinks back and forth between being aloof and in control, to the whinny megalomaniac we all know and love.

8) Raimundo had a good reason to be pissed when Jack brought up Querida. Look at the scene through Rai's eyes, and it almost as if Jack is lording her illness over him, trying to use it to force Rai to give up the shen gong wu … at which point (as far as Rai knows) Jack could just renegade on his end of the deal. Furthermore, Rai kept it a secret because he didn't want the other monks to treat him differently and, not to make a bad pun, Jack just outed him to them. I mention this because since much of this chapter ended up being sympathetic to Jack, one might think he didn't deserve to be slugged. From Rai's perspective (and much as I adore Rai, boy does have some temper/impulse issues) a blow was very much in order.

ANYWHO … I really think that's enough outta me.

Thank you all again for your encouragement, reviews, and simply reading!

-Shiva's Avatar-


	4. Chapter Three

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Three - This is my life … and I hate it

By- Shiva's Avatar

Limbs thrashed, as he frantically fought to breathe. Every single muscle fighting for the common goal of escaping the confines of too blue water.

Escape would have been easy had it not been for the hand shoving his head into the porcelain bowl. Air, so plentiful mere inches away, so easy to obtain if not for the iron grip punishing him for his 'sins'. And then the pain stopped, the shimmering water becoming hazy, as the boy felt his eyelids droop. He was just glad it didn't hurt anymore; he was tired of hurting all the time. Maybe if he was lucky he wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night again, it'd be easier to be good if wasn't so tired all of the time. And if he was good his mom would love him more … maybe tomorrow they could bake cookies together …

And then it hurt again. Eyelids fluttering open as his body instinctively gasped for life giving oxygen. A floating blurred oval was pushed aside so that her heart shaped face could dominate his visual field. Worry overfilled her eyes, tears running in rivers over rose-red lips. The boy rested the urge to mimic the action, despite the fact that the pain … physical and emotional, was nearly overwhelming. He couldn't cry … she didn't like it when he cried.

"Thank god you were around Jeffrey, I don't know what I'd have done if … if … if …" the woman's soprano tone was a whine, her voice breaking into sobs as she let the sentience hang unfinished in the air.

"I'm glad I could help Ms. Spicer … but how exactly did this happen?" Jeffery's voice was nails on a chalkboard, trapped in the no-mans-land vocal range of tenor and soprano. To Jack he sounded like an angel. Jeffery was always nice, always willing to stop dusting to play trucks or legos with him for a while.

"He was in the bathtub … I came into check on him … and … and … oh, god … what if I'd been too late?" the woman placed Jack's head in her lap, and ran a small hand through his hair. The boy resisted wincing as manicured nails brushed the part of his scalp they had wounded earlier. Pianist fingers hiding where hair had been pulled, tugged, and brutalized.

"Mam … "Jeffery began hesitantly, Jack dreading the inevitable conversation conclusion. "That's impossible".

The lavish bathroom was, as always, in pristine condition. Everything gleamed with the divine purity only freshly polished white marble can have. White towels lay dormant, suspended on their rack, while black shower curtains were shut closed, the floor in front of them suspiciously dry … unlike the face of a red haired child and the soaked floor around the nearby toilet bowl.

"Jeffery, you are no longer needed here. Leave." The broken tone became cold, lethal shards of ice digging into the young butler. For a moment he hesitated, but one look from his employer silenced any other accusations he might have made. No longer did tears flee her earth colored eyes, only a fury that promised bitter retribution should he stay. Turning, he wordlessly walked away.

Jack sniffed, choking back the tears. Come tomorrow, Jeffery wouldn't be working there anymore. Years later he would find out that those who incurred Ophelia Spicer's anger didn't get fired, they simply disappeared.

Once the tuxedoed butler disappeared from sight Ophelia pulled her son closer, cuddling him to her chest. If she noticed the boy's fear, she showed no sign of caring about it. Her tone was soft, chiding the boy who had terrified her so.

"Jack-Jack … you shouldn't scare mommy like that. Mommy loves you know. She's only looking out for your well being …"

"I know mamma," Jack whimpered.

"And you're a big boy now! Big boys don't wet themselves! I'm sorry mommy got mad … she just wants what's best for you. You don't want the other kids to pick at you at school, do you Jack-Jack? Mommy's only trying to help you take care of your little problem,"

"I know mamma," Jack whimpered again … rabbit eyes avoiding his mother's rock hard glare. Shamed by the stain on his red cowboy pajamas that had so incited his mother's fury. Quickly he crossed his legs, hiding the spot from her lingering scrutiny.

She smiled a quiet smile, and hugged him tighter.

"Just stay dry for mommy and mommy won't get mad again … alright honey? Now let's get you changed, and put to bed,"

She released him from her choking embrace, and helped him to his feet. Keeping hold of his tiny hand she led him out into the mansions dark hall. Walking the long route back to the boy's room, they traveled in silence till they came to Jack's etched wooden door.

"Mommy loves you Jack-Jack," Ophelia said, kneeling down and hugging her son.

"I love you to mamma," Jack said softly, hugging back.

The next day they made chocolate chip cookies, both looking so happy they could have served as the models for a Kodiak commercial … three weeks later Jack turned six.

He finally fully potty trained by age ten.

-------

"Jack, its NOT a hard piece to play. Why when I was your age I could play it on the clarinet, the piano, AND the violin," Ophelia's voice had grown rigid over the years, her brown eyes harder then the stones they resembled. Her intensity had also progressed to level that few could withstand. Rather then start her son off with "Autumn Rain" she was trying to get him to play Bach's "Air on the G string".

"I'm trying mom. I really am!" Jack said, struggling to trick the violin into releasing the melody his mother so desired. No matter how hard he tried though, the finesse of the instrument eluded him, always resulting in a stomach turning screech.

"You're doing this on purpose. You're punishing me because I'm trying to make you better yourself. You'd rather waste time playing with those worthless gadgets then learn a REAL art form!" Ophelia growled, tossing sheet music aside.

"No, mom, I'm really trying! I swear!" Jack's hands hurt, his arms hurt. He'd spent all of the previous night practicing this piece, yet she refused to acknowledge any improvement in his form.

"Like THIS," Ophelia said with a melodramatic sigh, agile fingers teasing out a joyful tune from her own elaborate instrument, twin to Jack's own. She played it so well that Jack knew he couldn't imitate her. Still he placed the bow to taunt strings … his first pull resulting in a horrible wail. From the look on his mother's face, Jack wasn't sure who was in more pain, the instrument or her.

"Why do I even bother? I ask so little of you Jack, and you can't even try …" Ophelia said giving a resigned sigh, standing.

"I'll play it right mom! I promise! Just give me a chance," Jack begged, pulling the bow against strings again, only to gain the same dismal results. Pearl earrings swaying, his mother ignored him as she headed for the door.

"Mom I'm trying! I really am! Jack said, dropping the instrument and grabbing her skirt. He couldn't figure out why she was like this, she always seemed so happy when they began, but quickly became frustrated when he couldn't mirror her master performances. He'd already failed the piano and clarinet … he could do this! He really could, if only she would give him a little more time …

"Jack, let go. I'm a very busy lady and don't have time for your games. If you're not going to try, let's not waste each others time"

"I AM trying mom, I really am!" Jack all but sobbed into the light green fabric.

"Let GO of me. You're a waste of my time, and we both know it"

"Please mom, I'll try harder, I promise! We never do anything anymore … I'll try harder, I promise!" Jack pleaded, barely surprressing his tears as he breathed in amber Antica Farmacista. She acted different, she looked different, she even smelled different. But she was his mom … the one person in the world who would always love him … who wouldn't pick on him like all the other kids did.

"Let go of me this instant!"

Jack tightened his death grip, never needing her support as much as he did now. She had to see he was upset … she'd start comforting him any minute now …

_CRACK._

Unlike cartoons, violins really don't make musical sounds when they bash into the side of your skull. It's more of a dull thud.

A swirl of colors, much like a rainbow on crack filled Jack's vision. His head throbbed as he struggled to sit up, frightened of the darkness eating up the rainbow. Looking up he thought he saw a brief flash of concern cloud his mother's features … which disappeared when their eyes met.

"I love you darling, I just wish you'd actually try and apply yourself …" she muttered, before disappearing out the door with a twirl of silver cloth.

The next day Jack didn't bother going to school, but stayed home in bed all day unable to find the energy even to shower or change. Two weeks later, after the maid had grown weary of sponge baths and feeding him, she started forcing Effexor down his throat and threatening to tell his mother if he didn't return to school. Eight months later he turned twelve, lacking in self-confidence, filled with emotions he only knew to suppress, only knowing they were never to be expressed.

-------

"You cocky little BASTARD! I'll teach you to do this to your mother!" The Spicer matriarch screamed, giving her son a glare that contained enough contempt it would have euthanized a carebear.

With a speed a cheetah would have envied, she crossed the room. Her cherry colored high heels clicking on the floor, sounding much like nails being pounded into a coffin, her coral colored nails digging into Jack's shoulders with talon like efficiency.

"Why would you actually WANT to look like little reject? What are you, some kind of fag wearing his mother's make-up? Foundation … eyeliner … is this … THING by your eye drawn on in marker! Do you ENJOY making me look bad? Is your fucking goal to make look like an unfit mother!"

Jack met his mother's gaze with his own. His unnatural eyes making her instinctively draw back. He'd learned long ago that's the only edge he had over her, she hated looking him in the eyes. It didn't escape Jack's notice that she's seemed more feverish of late, less able to concentrate, more likely to lash out in rage. He'd thought he'd been doing a good job of acting grown-up … she never noticed him when he acted adult, so he strived towards that goal at every turn. Obviously though she'd taken exception to his choice of Goth clothing and accessories.

"Don't you fucking look at me with those freak eyes, I should have fucking aborted you when I had a chance. Your father would come home more if he didn't such a freak for a son! Everything is YOUR fault … hear me? YOUR FAULT! … I thought I told you not to look at me with those fucking freak eyes!"

If it were a movie Ophelia would have bitch-slapped her son before retreating the kitchen in a belligerent huff. But as Jack had learned long ago, reality wasn't nearly as kind as the most brutal horror flick.

At five foot four, and a hundred and twelve pounds, many would think Ophelia Spicer incapable of violence. Jack knew better. Her right hand suddenly released his shoulder, the left digging in deeper to make up for the slake. The free hand morphed into a fist, hitting with jaw bruising efficiency, a large diamond ring puncturing flesh.

"God damn it!" she shrieked as raindrops of blood splattered from the wound. "This is a Vera Wang original you little dick!"

Jack said nothing, talking back only made things worse. She shoved him backwards; knocking him off his feet, as she all but sprinted to the nearby sink. Water raced from the faucet as she meticulously cleaned off her hand from the tiny drops of crimson. She then inspected her dress with a critical eye, thanking her stars that not a stain had appeared on the antique mauve colored fabric. Content she returned her attention to her son. His emotionless glare making her flinch back.

"Just clean that crap off and stop fucking pissing me off," she hissed, fleeing the room with a speed a sprinter would have complimented.

Jack shuffled back to lean against a wall, releasing the tears he never let her see. She always knew just what to say … always seemed to know the exact words that would tear him apart inside. A minute later Martha, one of the seemingly limitless maids the Spicer household employed, entered.

She said nothing as she spotted Jack in the corner, only pulled out a first aid kit from a nearby cedar cabinet. Long ago the hired help had learned not inquire about any wounds Jack might acquire … everyone at least clinging to the pretense that the boy was only accident prone. Those who would try to debunk such a rumor, conveniently left the mansion without warning, and were never heard from again.

Fat fingers cleaned the cut on Jack's cheek, and applied a band-aid. The fat maid clad in black, then retreating back to the haven of her chores. While she cleaned she couldn't help but notice the silently weeping Spicer child … and before moving on to the foyer softly said in her heavily accented tone;

"Your mother … she love you … all mothers love children … you see. She just sick … she gets better, and you be one happy family".

The next day Ophelia locked herself in her room, overcome for a while by unconquerable sadness. Two months later Jack turned fourteen … he hired an expert to make his marker drawn tattoo a real one.

He also fired Martha for being a liar.

-------

"Hey Ophelia," Jack said, leaning against a wall, watching his mother as she splattered paint on a canvas. She had just come out of one her sadness spells, and had decided that she wanted to be an artist. So she had converted her bedroom into an art studio, where she finger-painted by day, unleashing her brushes only under cover of darkness.

Dark rings circled her once chocolate eyes, which rarely nowadays radiated any sense of clarity. Her long brown hair had become limp and lifeless, had transformed into an unkempt mass resembling some kind of mutant beehive. No longer did she wear high end fashion or bathe in expensive perfumes … most days the hired help considered it a success to just keep her in pants and a shirt.

Ophelia Spicer was but a sad portrait of her past glory … only dolled up when her husband returned and threw another of his lavish parties, at which was nothing more then window-dressing, otherwise left to be forgotten in her room … usually verbally abusing, if not physically attacking, anyone who violated her artistic sanctuary.

She didn't look up from the paint covered canvas at her son's voice, though there was no doubt she had to have heard him.

"Ophelia, it's me. Jack," Jack tried again, earning at least a dismissive snort.

"Ophelia … I … Look … Grace has been taking me to see a psychologist lately. I've been using the trust money dad gave me before he went of to Europe …" Jack said, pointedly not telling his mother that he'd been given control over the Spicer fortune.

Pointedly not telling her that his father had called her a psycho bitch that he'd divorce in a second if not for the fact that'd she cost more then she was worth. Didn't tell her that Grace had done more for him as a mother then she ever had. "I was kinda hoping you'd come see him too. He's really nice … he's been helping me out a bunch …"

Ophelia let out another indifferent snort, indulging this time in a dismissive wave as well.

"At least give it a try! You're not alright … your sick! You've ALWAYS been sick … maybe we can get you better …" Jack was near tears now. Both Dr. Raphael and Grace had warned him that this probably wasn't going to work … that she would refuse any aid that he might try and offer her … but Jack wanted it to so bad. He'd always wanted to be a family … a real family …

His mother looked up, sneered at him, and then reached for another tube of red paint.

"Come on Ophelia … please?"

The red vanished into the conglomeration of colors. No doubt Ophelia saw a masterpiece … something that would have inspired Picasso, which would have brought tears to Da Vinci's eyes, which would have brought Michelangelo to his knees. Jack saw nothing more then a paint spattered canvas … a work of art imitable by a four year old child or a dog with a paintbrush shoved up its nose. She didn't look at him again as she reached for a tube of green.

"You're busy. I should go," Jack said, feeling the tears that years of therapy had taught him not to suppress. Walking away he shut the door to his mother's room, and then broke into a run. Ran to Grace so that she could sooth his wounded ego, could quell the rivers of tears flooding his soul.

The next day he and Grace made cookies, and then Jack finished the renovations to his basement lab. He had already made several Jackbots, and was fast on his way to replacing the entire Spicer staff, expect for Grace, with the machines. Two days later Jack turned sixteen. Two and a half weeks after that, his father sent him a puzzle box from Egypt as a gift …

A gift that had changed his life …

A gift that had lead him to met amazing people, experience wondrous sights, to hold objects of unimaginable power …

A gift that allowed him to fall in love …

-------

Jack opened his eyes, and looked around groggily.

Dimly the memories returned … Raimundo winning the showdown, Raimundo using the book of exedon, Raimundo leaving him. He must have passed out, unable to cope from the fury of his emotions … and then he'd dreamed … recalled the nightmare that had been his past. Jack smiled a sad smile and brushed aside away a stray few tears, wondering if Raimundo had already read those painful memories … if perhaps he had read them as Jack had relived them.

"Jack! Jack! Are you alright!" Wuya's voice cut through daydreams of a cute Brazilian boy bent over a book.

'Daydreams I don't deserve to have anymore … he already made it perfectly clear about how he felt about me,' Jack thought with a sigh, rubbing his newly acquired bruise. Looking at her, the lavender ghost seemed frailer then Jack remembered, and though she quickly tried to disguise it, he'd clearly seen a flash of concern cross her ethereal features.

"Hey Wuya," he said, turning to face the star studded sky. It'd only been mid-afternoon when he'd arrived here … yet it felt like he'd been stranded here for ages.

"We can get the wu back Jack, you didn't need to throw a tantrum over losing one wu. I mean really, with your record you think you'd be used to failure now …" Wuya's voice sounded more subdued then disgruntled, and her rationalizations aside, Jack appreciated her concern. He was ganna miss her.

"Naw … let the losers keep the wu. Doesn't really matter. I was getting bored of this game anyway," Jack said nonchalantly, feeling numbness smooth over all the pain inside him. Dr. Raphael had always said that the numbness was worse then the pain, something Jack had never completely bought. In all honesty he was glad for its return; it made everything so much easier.

"What!" the ghost asked, giving the boy a questioning glare.

"I mean, game over, they win …" Jack said standing up, brushing off his pants, and retrieving his cell phone from yet another hidden pocket.

The melancholy smile died, as he pushed the required buttons … "yeah, game over … gatta admit though, it was fun while it lasted."

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Author's notes-

Niaho everybody …

1) :tilts head and shrugs: I have no idea why I've been so prolific this week … but I'm sure school will catch up to me soon enough (so just enjoy the quick update, ja:flashes a grin: )

2) Again, as always, your reviews always serve as a source of inspiration and joy for me … thank you for them (and a double thanks for those who wished me luck at college … I just might be needing it :chuckles: )

3) :sighs: there's also a lot about this piece that I feel I should explain … so I apologize that the author notes get a bit lengthy … (but I figured I owed you all at least my reasoning for this chapter …)

4) First things first … As far Ophelia Spicer is concerned, I crafted her to have a mixture of bipolar disorder and paranoid schizophrenia (which as time went on got worse and worse, as I hopefully showed). I wasn't able to express her depressive states as well I was her manic states (When she was manic she got obsessed with whatever project caught her fantasy … and turned violent if everything didn't go according to her plans). Her depressive states where just as bad for Jack though (she'd retreat into self-exile in her room, lying there unmoving and unresponding … and since as a kid Jack didn't know what caused her mood shifts – and no one ever explained to him that his mother was mentally ill – he thought he'd caused them). And her paranoia made her always think he really didn't love her … that any of his failures were meant just to spite her … – My overall point? What you see here was only a sampling of what Jack lived through … he grew up way too fast, suffered way too much, and never learned to relate well with others (way I figure it, this scenario is fairly viable … and has the benefit that it explains why you never see Jack's mother in the show, because she's either manic/depressive in her room … it also explains why Jack switches between overly childish and overly serious … because he lived in a house punctured by that kind of chaos … if you have questions about any of this, ask them and I'll do my best to answer them further).

5) Ophelia didn't think she was crazy (as most mentally ill people tend to believe), and didn't trust doctors or meds. The only person with enough clout to have her committed was her husband (who, in really didn't care two twits about her so long as she behaved at his parties … and in fact didn't want to deal with the "disgrace" her illness would bring to his family's name). Thus how Ophelia escaped getting medicated (in case any of you were wondering …)

6) I didn't want to make a big deal of it (and am mentioning it only as a technical note) but the Spicer family employed only illegal immigrants, thus why Ophelia could use her husbands connections to rid herself of anyone who became to annoying (also, it worked in her favor that not only could she use her considerable monetary wealth to hide Jack's abuse but she could have them deported with a snap of her fingers if they tried to accuse her).

7) There is (frightening enough) evidence for abuse in the show. For those of you who remember the episode with the shadow of fear – Jack's worse fear is the giant toilet while he's a little kid. That's NOT natural given his current age (and from a phobia perspective damn near impossible unless something traumatic happened in his childhood ...). Similarly, the fact that his parents never make an actual appearance and care that he comes home battered and bruised (or in several episodes, causes vast structural damage to their home) makes a really good case to say he was, at the least, neglected (… This is what happens when you major in psychology folks … you always notice themes, and tend to over analyze people/characters actions :sweatdrops: )

8) I apologize immensely if this chapter isn't up to the normal standard I've been holding this fic up to (I was leery about editing it overly much, afraid that I'd overly concentrate on the abuse … and I wanted to keep my T rating … and when writing that stuff you get on questionable ground. Sure "A child called it" was aimed for young adults reader … but quite frankly that book bothered the hell out of me for weeks after reading it … :realizes he's rambling: Point of the matter, I wanted to keep this rating where it was so decided to play it safe rather then end up accidentally scaring someone later).

9) This chapter was not in my original notes … (thus why the title deviates from the poem theme ideal). I figured that'd you prefer this method explaining Jack's past, rather then have Rai narrate it all (which kept seeming really boring when I tried to write it that way). That being said, this fic might turn out to be longer then the originally intended eleven chapters … (meaning other titles might likewise deviate … :Sighs: I wish I'd just done the chapter titles in a normal fashion …).

… I THINK that's everything I wanted to say (if you have questions about any of that, feel free to ask) –

So, on that note, I would once again like to thank everyone who encouraged, reviewed, or simply read.

Laters

-Shiva's Avatar-


	5. Chapter Four

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Four – The truth doesn't always set you free

By- Shiva's Avatar

Lighting flashed through the air, its scream of thunder rattling the temple's windows. Three monks, an aged Zen master, and a small green dragon each stared out a large rectangular window, watching the storm unleash its full fury. Wondering and worrying about their missing companion who was out, somewhere, in the tempest.

Raimundo had disappeared once the group had reached the temple, vanishing into what had then been a drizzle of rain without a word. That had been hours ago, and that drizzle had escalated steadily throughout the day. Master Fung had listened calmly to Dojo's recounting of the battle for the wu, and had ordered the monks to give Raimundo some time to clear his head. Considering that the end to the discussion he sent the young monks to their chores, and set about making dinner for them. Now that the chores were done, and the meal past; the wind monk having not even made an appearance, the group was left staring out the window in the training hall, waiting.

Master Fung would not admit it to his students, but he too was worried about Raimundo. The book of Exedon was not like the other shen gong wu. Most of the magical artifacts could be used whimsically, their powers seemingly grand, but relatively unable to alter the wielder. Yes the shroud of shadows could make one invisible to the sight of others, but the wearer still knew who and where they were … but the book of Exedon called all things into question. One would think that the magical book only told you the secrets of your foe, but Master Fung knew better then that. The book told you everything about a person you had named as your enemy; it forced a sense of intimacy between the reader and their rival.

So powerful of the book of Exedon that the ancient scrolls documented the handful times it had used. Great dragon disciples understanding, much like Master Fung, that knowing of an enemies hardships could weaken your heart at a crucial moment, turning a victory into defeat … and when the stakes of defeat were often at the cost of something akin to "a thousand years of darkness ruling over the Earth", the monks knew better then to invite disaster. When a name was scribed into the magical book, it was often the monk penning their own name, forcing themselves to confront secrets they would prefer to bury in their unconscious. The last documented use of the book had been Grandmaster Dashi himself, his use of the book apparently altering the legendary final battle between himself and Wuya.

Master Fung sighed, and took a sip of his bitter tea. The records were unclear as to how the book of Exedon had altered that final battle, but if it could have such an affect on Grandmaster Dashi … Master Fung could only imagine what effects the book was having on a child. And no matter Raimundo's training or abilities … there was little doubt that he still had a long way to go before he gained an adult's maturity. The aged monk sighed again, wishing his charges would better heed his warnings when he explained to them the dangers of the shen gong wu.

"That's it! I can't take no more 'o this! I'm ganna go find Rai and bring him back," Clay said, standing suddenly. Kimiko and Omi glanced first at the cowboy, before turning their eyes to Master Fung.

"Man stands in his own shadow, and wonders why it is dark," Master Fung quoted, taking another sip of his tea. Confusion flashed across the faces of his students, and even Dojo arched an eyebrow questioningly. Clay's mouth started to move to question the elder monk, but he quickly realized if he did, he would be spending the next few hours trying to force out a logical interpretation from his teacher. Would spend hours sitting here and not looking for a very obviously upset friend who was out, alone, in the rain. So with a curt nod the cowboy turned and raced out the door.

"Ummm …yeah, alright. We're going to go look for Rai too …" Kimiko began, only to be cut off by Master Fung's upraised hand.

"I believe Clay can handle this, and I believe it is time for you and Omi to begin your training" Master Fung said, halting his two remaining pupils with a stern glare, knowing that having one friend confront him would probably be all a violate Raimundo could handle … if he could even handle that.

---------------------------

Lightning twisted through sky, breaking through clouds to crash into the ground far below. It was the perfect dancer to the winds siren scream, the chill rain providing perfect accompaniment to the performance … supplying tears from a sky that had orchestrated the entire show.

When Clay finally found Raimundo, the brown haired boy having hidden himself in the wilderness surrounding the walled temple, it appeared like he was trying to mimic the sky. The wind monk sat with his back against a tree, hugging his knees to his chest, emerald eyes buried into his lap, and his whole body wracked by sobs. Nearby the book of Exedon was tossed aside, careless thrown on the muddy ground, its innate magic the only thing keeping it from destruction from the elements. Clay approached slowly, unsure exactly what to do, but knowing he needed to do something. Slowly he put his hands on his friend's shoulders, and said;

"Geez Rai … what're you doin' out here?"

"Heh … a game… a fucking game …" Raimundo muttered into his lap, tensing rather then relaxing at his friend's touch.

"What in tar-nation are you talking about?" Clay asked, worried and confused.

"It was all a fucking game! All of it! He never wanted to take over the world … he just wanted someone to play with him! It was a game … it was all a fucking GAME! We beat him up … we made fun of him … and all he ever wanted was to be our friend!" Raimundo screamed, rearing his head back and captivating Clay with eyes which were still leaking tears. "He's been through hell, and all he wanted was to be our friend … and how the hell did we treat him? Some heroes we are …"

Clay shivered; unsure it if it was the implications of Raimundo's words, or the cold rain that caused his shudder. There was no doubt who the 'he' was … and Clay didn't want to think of Jack Spicer as anything other then one evil varmint, not after all the insults and underhanded tricks the evil genius had pulled.

"Come on Rai … Let's go back to the temple and get you warmed up. Last thing we need is you getten' sick," Clay asked soothingly, trying to help the other monk up. With a twist of his arm Raimundo broke free of Clay's helpful grasp, and pulled his knees closer to his chest. Clay tried again to help his friend up … but was again thwarted.

"Come on Rai! He's NOT your friend, and he's done plenty of dirty tricks to us! Maybe ee's not as bad as we thought … but yesterday you didn't even LIKE him! You like 'em now Rai, or are you just feeling sorry for him? Huh? You LIKE him Rai?" Clay was cold, tired, and sick from worrying about the wind monk all day, and the words came out more accusatory then he meant them too. There was no way he could have been prepared for Raimundo's reaction though.

Green eyes flashed in reflective lightning, and with a seemingly effortless roll of the legs Raimundo was on his feet. Fists balled, a snarl covering his face, body posture clearly in a fighting stance.

"I … do … NOT … like … Spicer!" Raimundo growled, spiting out each word, as if to empathize them. Despite himself, Clay found himself taking a step backwards.

"Sure ain't acting like it partner," Clay muttered, wondering what he'd said that gotten his friend so riled. Keen ears catching the cowboy's murmur, Raimundo felt his entire jaw clench.

"I am NOT a Fag!" The wind monk roared and before Clay could even try to comprehend that statement, his friend had charged him, left fist leading. Clay threw up his forearms, blocking the punch, but couldn't help but wince when the blow connected. Raimundo wasn't holding back.

That one punch wasn't the only one Raimundo was about to throw either. Clay soon found himself on the defensive as the wind monk unleashed a furry of kick-punch combos. Just as talented as Raimundo though, Clay held his own, guarding against all the attacks.

It wasn't Raimundo's fighting style though, Clay soon noticed. It was too messy, too close. When Raimundo normally fought there was an acrobatic component to his style, as he twisted and weaved his way past his opponents defenses, always keeping them confused as to where the next strike was coming from. Now it was too simplistic … a simple matter of punching or kicking whenever able, trying to beat Clay through sheer ferocity rather then skill. Clay was glad that was the case though, in a battle of pure skill between him and Brazilian, Clay wasn't sure who would come out the victor. But in a case like this, Clay knew he could win.

The cowboy suffered another bout of punches and kicks, before finally managing to enact a countermove. Grabbing Raimundo's arm he managed to throw the boy over his shoulder, knocking the wind out of the air monk, as back rammed into muddy ground. In a fluid move Clay then pinned his friend, using his element to augment his strength in order to keep the wind monk down. Raimundo went into convulsions trying to escape, twisting, struggling, and even resorting to biting trying to escape his friend's iron grip.

"Rai! Rai! Jeez Rai … What's WRONG?" Clay asked, ignoring the pain of his wounds, ignoring the cold, and trying desperately to understand what was wrong his friend.

Raimundo struggled for a few more seconds, before turning his face away from Clay's. Cheek in mud, soaked and dirty Raimundo whispered something Clay missed, as the wind monk's body again began to shudder with sobs.

"Sorry Rai, I missed that," Clay said, moving his head closer to Raimundo's.

Raimundo adjusted his head again, broken green eyes leaking a moisture that was not rain. Emerald eyes refusing to meet Clay's blue spheres. Lips trembling, the wind monk again repeated the words he never wanted to say …

"I don't wanna be gay …"

And in the distance lightning flashed again, the thunder following it sounding like a peal of laughter … combined with a heart wrenching scream.

* * *

Author's notes- 

Niaho all!

Sweet holy moogles! You guys have been amazing with all your support (In fact it makes me feel really bad about taking so long to update this …). But a-n-yway … on to the author notes.

1) I have over a hundred reviews. When I saw this, I was literally in awe because I never thought it possible. It's times like this I wish I had some artistic ability so that I could give you guys something nifty to thank you for your support (if anyone has any idea what an author can do to thank his fans, I'm all ears!). I just wanted to make it extra clear here … you guys are the best reviewers an author can ask for!

2) :rubs a temple: I do apologize for taking so long to update (I have my reasons … but I have a Livejournal to hold my emo ramblings … so I'll not waste your time with them here). Hopefully (key word there, hopefully) I'll be able to update faster in the future.

3) This chapter is short. Originally it was supposed to have some Spicer angst too … but when I got to the end it was just too great a place to end. So, next chapter you can all look forward to a little more Spicer angst … and THEN (finally) something a little more fluffy.

4) This chapter was hard for me to write … and in fact I started it multiple times and kept discarding it because it was crap. Originally Master Fung was supposed to come out and talk with Raimundo … but I thought that was kinda lame. Next I thought maybe Kimiko … but that just seemed to cliché. I finally settled on Clay because Clay (I feel anyway) gets screwed over in the series. Yes he's Texan … but he has a big brother component that I just look forward to playing with (Clay really does have the feel of being the most accepting of the bunch). I'm still kinda unhappy with the dialogue (I tried to make it realistic … but it still has a forced feeling to it that irks me) … but I think the fight scene went well (but more on that later).

5) I want to clarify the Master Fung's shen gong wu internal monologue. Most of the shen gong wu DO have a feel to them that you can treat them like toys (and argumentivly they're no more powerful then modern weaponry. IE Eye of Dashi vs a missile … third arm sash vs a machine gun …etc). The thing is though, in almost every series I've seen (or video game I've played) the villain has a REASON for being evil (IE- they're out for revenge because they lost someone dear to them … they grew up poor and suffered greatly so now their out to solve that problem … they pined for something they could never have … so decided to take it by force … etc). The hero normally is only a hero in order to protect people against the villain. Its easy to get caught up in the idea that the villain is just an evil monster hell-bent on causing pain and suffering … when in reality the villain is just as much human as the hero (… :Sweatdrops: I hope this makes sense to you all …)

6) Furthermore … Jack does treat the shen gong wu as a game. Don't believe me? Think about the multiple times he broke into the temple and stole shen gong wu. Now, the logical thing would to do would be to grab ALL the wu …right? Despite that though he always seems to "forget" several powerful wu … meaning that while he's got more wu, the others still have a means to keep fighting. Or his Jackbots … it would be very easy to simply outfit them with machine guns, NOT give them pain sensors of any type, and simply have them plow through the monks … instead they do such hilarious things as push their own self-destruct buttons, or (in the case of the Jackbot made to serve as Jack's clone) fight their creator. I could go on … there are MANY ways that Jack could easily up his efficiency … but instead he always tends to fall back to the same tricks and schemes. Logically it follows that he really isn't all that interested in the world … but rather on actually playing with "friends".

7) :Sighs: Raimundo has always stuck me as the overly dramatic, emotional (not to mention flamboyant) monk. Personally I think the boy's bi … seeing as he seems to just be too much of a flirt (but that's really just a personal opinion. Unlike Jack, the show seems to show that Rai does harbor at least some feelings for the ladies … though there are some episodes where I really do question if he's hitting on Clay, Omi, and Jack respectively). - Thing I was trying to push in this chapter is … its hard coming out, even if it's just to yourself. Raimundo got to read about Jack coming out to himself (and then talk about it in therapy with Dr. Raphael) and realized that he'd always harbored some feelings for guys as well. Considering he was already upset and feeling guilty this quickly spiraled into "Dear gods I'm gay and everyone hates me" … compounded by the guilt that Jack loved him, and on numerous occasions he'd gone out of his way to make the boy's life a living hell. – Lets just say Rai wasn't at a very good emotional place then and there … and no matter who you are, admitting that you like the same sex can be a hard thing to do. (And no by the way … Rai is not suddenly madly in love with Jack … that's something they have to work through in later chapters!)

8) As I just finished explaining Rai was at a very bad emotional place … and when your gay you tend to have this paranoia that everyone suddenly knows. So while Clay was trying to explain that yesterday Raimundo hadn't even liked Jack as a person, Raimundo took it as an accusation that he "liked-liked" Jack. So Rai was a little (ok, a lot) over defensive … (and thus the fight … Rai really does strike me as being THAT temperamental).

9) Oh as a special note … I'd like to thank all the reviewers who have pointed out spelling/grammar errors out to me (or just threw in their own personal opinions about whatever's going on) … it means a lot to me that you guys take the time to read my stuff that thoroughly!! Oh! And special thanks to Tim … for revealing to me that google is evil and lies to me (just so everyone knows UFRJ is NOT a hospital … but actually a public college … not a big deal, but something that should be noted none the less :growls again at google who betrayed him:).

10) I think that's everything I wanted to say (dear ye gods my author's notes are getting way to long … and half the time I wonder if anyone understands my incoherent ramblings at all :sweatdrops: ) soooo …

All that being said, I again thank you for all your support and reviews. If you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me … kk? Awesome!

Till later then!

-Shiva's Avatar-


	6. Chapter Five

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Five – Boys and their dolls

By- Shiva's Avatar

Mechanical limbs offered a sympathy that flesh had refused. Jack suppressed another sob as his metal clone held him close, steel arms wrapping around a living waist, Jack's head resting against a chest that lacked a heartbeat. Closing his eyes and concentrating, the evil protégée could hear gears whirling … gears he had designed spinning frantically as his own creation tried to sooth him.

"It's alright Jack! Don't worry about it! We'll regroup and get those Xiaolin losers back! You'll see!" said the metal clone, his voice identical to Jack's own. The naked eye wouldn't have been able to tell real human from artificial, the human ear wouldn't have been able to distinguish vocal cords from speakers. Standing next to his invention, Jack knew that few if any, could tell the difference between him and the copy he had created.

Jack was keenly aware of what separated him from his metal counterpart though. This version of his Jackbot still had a mechanical feel to it … a stiffness of limbs when it enacted precise movements, a complete lack of stutter or vocal imperfections, a lack of illusion of life … as Jack had yet to give the robot a breathing routine or heartbeat … and most importantly, and the one feature that made Jack utterly envious of his creation, was that it still could not feel. Jack had made a big deal about telling others how he gave his machines emotion chips, and how they could feel the same as the human heart, but Jack alone knew it was all a farce. They acted as he commanded them to, perfect dolls that could fool the most unbelieving eyes, save those of their creator.

"It's ok Jack. Everything's going to be ok," the robot said comfortingly, holding Jack's waist with one arm, and gently running a hand through his hair with the other. Jack refused to open his eyes, and fought back tears as the automaton continued petting him. He yearned for strong _human_ arms to hold him, longed for a _living_ tenor to comfort him. Raimundo had made it perfectly clear though … that was never going to be a reality. The bruise on Jack's face was still throbbing.

Sighing Jack opened his eyes. He'd allowed his clone to comfort him ever since they'd returned from the Peruvian jungle, after he'd called it to pick him up from his stranded state. Sure enough when he looked up, he was staring into a perfect replica of his own face. He wished he'd finished his Raibot … the project he'd started a few weeks ago, and had just that morning finished the mathematical equations for. He'd dropped the project to search for the book of Exedon … but now wished he would have just stayed home and worked on it instead. Looking up into Raimundo's emerald spheres, even if they were nothing but colored plastic and glass, would have been far more comforting then staring into his own flame colored eyes.

Nearby Wuya floated, watching the interaction between machine and creator with an equal amount of pity and disgust. The heylin witch unable to understand what had her cohort so upset. He had failed dozens upon dozens of times to win a battle for the shen gong wu. Granted Raimundo had used the book of Exedon and had learned Jack's secrets … but Wuya had no idea what secret could be so emotionally devastating to her minion. He had barely crested seventeen years of life … what knowledge could he really have of pain and suffering? What could he know of loss and sorrow? What insignificant detail of his trivial life could have caused such an extreme reaction?

And, most importantly to Wuya; how long would the red haired teen be worthless for her goals? If he was going to be constantly in tears and unable to plan world domination, the heylin witch had no use for him … and would rather spend her time pursuing minions of a more reliable nature, then waste her time catering to a blubbering child.

"Jackbot, run file 3254-06," Jack muttered quietly, pulling out of the machine's embrace. The machine's eyes blinked and it ran a hand through its hair.

"You sure Jack?" It asked rebelishly, just as it had been programmed to. Jack hesitated for half of a moment, then realized that there was no point in trying anymore. Raimundo no doubt knew about his near stalkerish devotion to the Brazilian … and Jack was certain that if tried to go after another wu, Raimundo would just use it as an excuse to beat the living tar out of him. Jack knew what pain was, and definitely was a masochist … so simply said to the machine;

"Yes,"

"Password required," the clone said, eyes downcast, sounding suddenly submissive.

"Eu estou no amor com o menino com os olhos bonitos," Jack whispered.

"Password accepted. Please give new instructions," the machine responded.

"You are to follow completely the commands of Wuya, voice file seven, so long as they don't derive from your primary objective. You may utilize up to three hundred thousand dollars from bank account 44543342 as she sees fit. The shen gong wu 'Reversing mirror" and 'Shroud of shadows' … shen gong wu number seven and twenty-three, are likewise her's to do with as she pleased. The remaining shen gong wu 'Third arm sash' and 'Golden tiger claws' … shen gong wu number eight and twenty, are to be delivered to the Xiaolin temple, address number five in the central database, care of Raimundo Pedrosa. I've included a personal note; see that it is likewise delivered. That completes new command list," Jack said emotionlessly, leaning wearily against a nearby lab table.

"What on Earth are you babbling about?" Wuya asked, shoving her face into Jack's, her ethereal forehead creased in annoyance.

"Giving up," the evil genius said simply. "I don't want to play the 'take over the world' game anymore … it's just not fun. So I'm taking my half of the wu and giving them to the losers … and I'm giving you the rest. You can also have the lab as your base … if you want it anyway. Jackbot is also yours, and has permission to give you some cash so you can get yourself some better minions too,"

"WHAT?!" the ghost roared, confused. Wuya much preferred the spineless Jack to this … this … creature. This thing that would declare its own independence and treat her as an equal … or worse yet, a subordinate.

Jack shrugged in reply, as Jackbot took the shen gong wu out of the nearby locked cabinet. With a few quick movements it placed the Reversing mirror and the Shroud of shadows on the lab table, and loaded the Golden tiger claws and Third arm sash into a nearby crate.

"I thought you desired to rule the world?! What foolishness is this?!" Wuya screamed, her gaseous form expanding till Jack was staring into spiral irises about the size of head.

"Naw, I never wanted the world … just someone to hang out with … just someone to play with," Jack said with another shrug. Wordless Wuya felt herself return to her smaller size, as she stared in utter confusion at this new side of Jack Spicer.

"What?" the ghost asked again, knowing that she was sounding redundant but not caring.

"Don't worry about it Wuya," Jack said, giving her a rueful smile, and heading up the stairs back to the house proper. His hand on the doorknob he hesitated a moment, then turned and looked back down, crimson eyes lancing through Wuya's fleshless form.

"Hey Wuya … I know we had our ups and downs and all that … but I just … well … what I mean is … you see …" Jack said, starting to ramble, reminding Wuya of the boy she thought she had known. "… You see, I just wanted to say thanks. It was good having you around … and it really was fun while it lasted,"

And with that Jack Spicer, evil boy genius, disappeared through the nearby door, a flash of trench coat Wuya's last sight of his retreating form.

Meanwhile the Jackbot had finished loading the shen gong wu into the crate, sealed it, and passed it on to three of its flying companions, with orders to deliver it to the Xiaolin temple. Wordlessly the flying Jackbots accepted their task and disappeared through the lab doors.

"Mistress Wuya, I am Jackbot, ordered to serve you. Please instruct me how best to please you," the machine said, its voice a perfect imitation of the boy who had just fled the room.

"Stay here and wait for further instructions. Keep out all intruders … I will return soon with new orders," the lavender ghost hissed, eyes narrowed. Then with lightning quick speed the heylin with flew through the door, in stealthy pursuit of her minion, determined to figure out what in the seven layers of hell was going on.

---------------------------------------------

The Spicer mansion was huge, and Jack knew every corridor by heart. Its labyrinth-esk construction having proven instrumental in tuning Jack's perfect sense of direction. So it confused the young genius of how in all the places to end up in his home, how he had ended up here … outside _her_ door.

Jack pressed his palms against the wooden entrance, the only barrier between him and the woman who had birthed him. He hadn't visited her in weeks, and every logical sense urged him not to see her now. A few corridors away Grace was in her room, probably asleep, but would be more then willing to wake up and comfort him … deep down Jack knew Ophelia was only going to make the pain and loneliness that much more acute. Feeling a tear fall down his face, he pushed aside reality and knocked on the door.

He wiped away the tears, and knocked harder when he received no reply.

"Away with you tormentor! I might your prisoner now, but soon I shall escape this hell-hole, and I shall see you suffer just as much as I!" screamed a familiar voice. Every nerve screamed for Jack to leave … instead he twisted the golden knob and opened the door.

Ophelia Spicer had obviously not improved during Jack's absence, and in fact appeared too have deteriorated even further to her malady. Long brown hair was a twisted mass and an obviously new bathrobe hung on her in tatters. Tatters obviously made by ink stained nails, brown eyes glaring at Jack, radiating only rage and not an ounce of clarity. Pens were careless thrown around the room, while paper covered in illegible scribbling lay scattered around the floor. She was ever the artiest, and Jack idly wondered what she was writing.

"Ah! It appears as though the demon spawn himself has come to torment me! Yes … yes, laugh now devil! All too soon my memoir will be complete, and with it I shall expose you as the monster you are! They will rescue me from this modern Bastille … my husband breaking through your flimsy guards to rip you into twain. Go ahead and laugh demon spawn! Laugh! For all too soon victory shall be mine!" Ophelia said, giggling. Then suddenly she charged, and despite himself Jack flinched back. He was just as tall as her, just as strong … but still she invoked fear into his heart. The same instinctive way that a single kind word from her would ease the hurt inside him. Jack often wondered if Ophelia knew of the power she wielded over him, and secretly delighted in it.

Mechanical claws caught her arms before she could strike though, her Jackbot caretakers retraining her without harming her.

"Mo … I mean … Ophelia. Can we talk?" Jack asked, licking his lips, knowing full well he was setting himself up for failure.

"Ha! HA-HA-HA! The demon would talk to me?! I'll make no deal with you devil!" the Spicer matriarch screeched, spitting in her son's face. Jack felt his gaze fall to the floor, and ignored the piercing pain in his chest.

"I kinda figured that … wish you'd talk to me though," Jack huskily whispered, pivoting and racing down through the maze like corridors. Finally reaching his own room, Jack threw open the door and slammed it behind him. He felt his chest heave with exhaustion and repressed sobs, and wasted no time kicking off his shoes, and pulling off his trench coat, shirt and pants. Heading through another door he stopped long enough to twist the lock, and twirl the shower dial. Without even bothering to remove his underclothes Jack leapt into the freezing rain. Barely feeling the water numb his skin, and never feeling it heat up to scald him, Jack sat down in the shower, bringing his knees to his chest and sobbing piteously into his lap …

And unsurprisingly, hating his life.

* * *

Author's notes 

:stretches: Nihao all! I shoved aside some homework to make time for this, and I hope it's up to snuff!

1) I know I always mention this … but you guys are awesome. Your reviews literally fill me with all sorts of joy.

2) I know this was another short chapter … but that's because (technically) this and chapter four were combined in my notes (I just decided it'd be better to break it up, because it builds more empathy for each of the boys … and then I can't be accused of playing favorites … :sweatdrops: even though I probably do).

3) Eu estou no amor com o menino com os olhos bonitos means (or should mean, seeing as I don't know Portuguese at all, and therefore had to rely on an online language translator) -- "I am in love with the boy with the pretty eyes" -- … and yes, I did make Jack that much of a Raimundo fan-boy (Jack has a bit of an attachment disorder if you can't tell. He connects WAY too much with people, and therefore all but worships the ground they walk on. A good example in the show is how he acts towards Chase … ever following the evil champion of evil around like a lost puppy, no matter how poorly he's treated. – Another example, this time more in the fic then the show, is with his mother. No matter how poorly she treats him or ignores him … he keeps phasing back to a time when she was, literally, all he had. And no matter how she might treat him, he's always going to love her … and despite knowing he's setting himself up for failure, go to her with his problems. Hoping against hope that for once she might actually console him … )

4) About the shen gong wu … Since Jack treated the whole thing as a game, he feels like he should reimburse each side for playing with him. So Wuya basically got a huge cash settlement and some wu (Jack made sure that she got the reversing mirror … knowing that's one of two wu she really needs) … and sent the rest of his wu to his "friends".

5) I REALLY wanted to make Wuya more mothering in this chapter. Unfortunately, I have to face the facts that in reality Wuya just ISN'T that empathetic a person right now (oooooh … is that foreshadowing:grins:). Long story short though … confused Wuya is kinda fun to play with too.

6) I am a technologic failure. I literally touch electronics and they die. That being said, writing about robojack was an interesting experience. I firmly refuse to believe that despite robojack's many betrayals (and seeming free will) that he had a mind of his own. I give Jack enough credit that he can build a robot that is at least completely under his control (as all the other jackbots clearly show). Meaning that robojack was designed to be rebellious and make Jack's life a little more interesting … but when the cards where on the table, it was human, not machine, that was in charge (and as a writer's note, I really liked robojack … he may be making another appearance in this fic later :grins: )

7) I actually really am trying to make my author's notes shorter. So I made a special LJ (go to my profile and click the little homepage button) to try and store some my more random rants. Also, my goal is to update (or post) a fic every couple of weeks … so I might also use it to post tidbits of those fics, post a nonfiction piece or explain what's going on in real life if I need to take another lengthy hiatus (I'll put the short versions there anyway … I'll keep the long winded Shiva rants, and the longer non-fanfiction pieces in the personal journal – which is friends only, but if you leave a message anyone is really allowed to read :grins:). – Now, I can see you all wondering, "is this just Shiva's avatar being an attention whore?" … the honest to that being "yes, partly". The other part being I do like people being informed (and it's a vain hope that by using a writing LJ I can make these sprawling author's notes a bit more bearable to you all … even though you've all surprised me by being really good natured about them).

:Stretches again: well anyway, that's enough rambling out of me. As per always, thanks to you all for your reviews and support … and if you have any questions, feel free to e-mail. Alrighty? Shibby!

Laters!

-Shiva's Avatar-


	7. Chapter Six

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Six – "The Torch Of Doubt And Chaos, This Is What The Sage Steer By"

By- Shiva's Avatar

"The whole moon and the entire sky are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass" the aged Zen master quoted, watching the sun begin its multihued decent. Meditation had become harder for the elderly monk, and he'd found his Zen sayings offered him less and less inner peace. Despite his years, Master Fung was amazed at how much change could occur in such a short expanse of time.

It had all started as such a routine mission. He had sent his pupils to collect yet another of the mystic Shen Gong Wu, and from the way the miniature dragon had explained it, everything had even followed the normal Shen Gong Wu gathering routine. Jack Spicer had made his customary appearance supported by the ghostly Wuya. A struggle occurred over the magical artifact, and a Xiaolin showdown had occurred. A fierce battle erupted, but the superior trained monks overcame the challenge and defeated those who would fight on the behalf of darkness. And then … and then …

And that was exactly it. Master Fung, even after hearing five different variants of the tale, could not figure out what exactly had happened next. Because that piece seemed to distort rather then compete the puzzle currently plaguing the master monk.

Jack Spicer, teenage protégée of evil, had apparently tried to buy the Shen Gong Wu. Though none of his students could actually fully explain what had happened, they had all said variations of the same thing. Jack Spicer had "changed". No longer was he the whimpering and pleading loser they had known … but instead he projected a calm authority that had unnerved the adolescent monks. With a seeming nonchalance he had intimidated and humiliated most of the monks into silence … and then had appealed to Raimundo's greed to try and acquire the contested Shen Gong Wu.

And while many made the claim that Kimiko was the most volatile of the monks … Master Fung knew all to well that Raimundo equaled, if not rivaled, her emotional unpredictability. Kimiko reacted with an intense, impulsive anger, while Raimundo followed the prodding of a teenage male's ego. Water and earth were calm stable elements … fire and wind though …

Master Fung knew all to well the trials of the dragons of wind and flame. He'd done his best to temper their emotions, and had made great strides since they had arrived so long ago at his temple gates. But doubtlessly much more training was necessary before they truly could control the volcanic eruptions inside them.

Proven by Raimundo's response to the evil genius's offer. After punching the other boy in the face, Raimundo had made it his mission to prove that Jack's secrets were just as easy to reveal as his own. And so without thinking of the consequences, he called upon the divination powers of the black book of Exedon.

And had obviously discovered information he had not been ready for.

What exactly he had discovered, Master Fung still didn't know. The wind dragon had stopped mid-reading, slammed the book closed, and demand Dojo return the group to the temple. Once there, he'd slipped away for hours with the magical book … and had only returned later when the earth dragon had, literally, carried him back to his room. Clay had then gone on to secrete the black book of Exedon in the Wu vault, actually going so far as to lock the Wu in its drawer, and intrusting the key to Dojo.

Raimundo would not speak of what happened or what he read. Clay would reveal nothing about what had transpired between him and Raimundo out in the raging storm. Both had answered Master Fung's questions with stony silence, refusing to trust their mentor enough to let him try and aid them.

And as if his pupils silence wasn't unusual enough … the next day a crate had arrived, lugged by two mechanical men. The Jack-bots set the crate down at the temple gates and then flew away. Leery of a trap, Master Fung had ordered several of the elder monks to inspect the crate for any danger, and only allowed it inside once eight elderly men had assured him that there was no danger. So he had the wooden box brought to the grand hall, had called his students to him, and had it opened.

And even though his surprise was equal to that of his students, Master Fung better hid his confusion when Omi pulled out the third arm sash and the golden tiger claws. That confusion only deepened when he read the included note, penned by their supposed nemesis's own hand.

It was short note, written on Spicer industry letterhead. It was an apology for any problems he may have caused, and included a check for fifty-thousand dollars for all the damage he and his metal soldiers had inflicted on the temple. It went on to say that he personally wouldn't trouble the group any longer, and that his remaining Wu had been give to his old incorporeal ally.

And with that, Jack Spicer had disappeared. During the last week, two new Shen Gong Wu had surfaced … and the evil genius had yet to make an appearance.

Master Fung sighed, rubbed a temple, and then sighed again, continuing to watch the sun's descent. He was worried about his students … Omi constantly badgered Raimundo about what he read, to which Raimundo always replied with a cold silence. Raimundo and Clay seemed to have fallen out of sorts, and were currently failing in combo tactics that they had been progressing in mere days before. Raimundo looked constantly tired, and his current martial arts performance showed a small, but gradually increasing, decline. Kimiko seemed to be trying to keep the peace for now, but the aged Zen master knew it was only a matter of time before her limited patience wore out, and she exploded at her already overstressed friends.

"We shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness inside that holds whatever we want," the master monk quoted, trying for a moment to quiet his mind. The floors of the temple seemed to be crafted of egg shells, and everything he tried seemed to do nothing to help his suffering students.

Master Fung closed his eyes, and counted his breaths, falling into an easy rhythm of meditation. All of this could be overcome … nothing dire had yet occurred. His students would suffer for a while as they overcame the loss of their rival, and then they would fall into a new routine, and things could acclimate themselves to a semblance of normalcy.

The master monk had just found his stress dissipating, but felt a knot form in his stomach when he heard a disturbance in the air. Opening his eyes, he watched as a black helicopter chopped the air, as it began to make a shaky decent into the temple's courtyard.

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step," he sighed, turning and walking towards the landing aircraft.

Knowing all to well, that this did not bode well.

------------------------------------------------

Master Fung was not surprised to see his students standing beside the landed helicopter when he reached the temple's courtyard. Omi stared at in open mouthed wonder, Kimiko with curiosity and pursed lips, Clay with distrust, and Raimundo with exhausted disinterest.

Unable to see through the tinged windows, the group waited several moments as the helicopter simply sat there. The door made several small sounds, but didn't open. About five minutes later it finally cracked open, depositing an extremely disheveled woman at the monks feet. Her entrance, lacking any elegance and as she fell out of the door, seemed to only accent her age and terror.

"You all right there Miss?" Clay asked, moving instantly to help the woman to her feet.

"Yes … yes … thank you. I'm fine," the woman whispered in a quiet voice. Standing she seemed utterly dwarfed by the cowboy. Her gray hair was buned behind her head, and chocolate brown eyes seemed to inspect every member of the group before she continued. She wore a simple black sundress that was tailored perfectly to fit her petite frame, skeletal fingers clamped together to try and hide the fact that they were still shaking.

"I'm … I'm …," she stopped and licked her lips. "My name is Grace Cruz … and I am … am looking for … the xa-loun temple,"

"You mean the Xiaolin temple?" Kimiko corrected.

"I … I … I don't know. I need to … need to speak," her hands moved to clutch her elbows, as though creating a barrier with her arms to ward off the group. "Need to speak … I need to talk to Raimundo,"

----------------------------------------------

"Sugar? Crème?" Master Fung asked, setting a cup of tea atop a saucer in front of the temple's guest. The normally nonexistent condiments placed in the center of the table, the normally bitter tea replaced with a sweeter variant.

"No, no, this is fine, thank you," the woman replied, lifting her glass and visually inspecting the cup's intricate art. She sat at the head the table, Kimiko and Raimundo sitting her left, Raimundo as far away from her as the table would allow, and Clay and Omi to her right. Master Fung watched her take a small sip from her cup, before seating himself at the remaining open table end.

For several long moments a heavy silence settled in the room, no one quite sure what they should do or say next.

Grace sighed and returned her cup to its saucer, and stared into the dark liquid, calming herself. She did not want to come. Hated flying, hated strangers, hated tea that she did not prepare herself. She knew she was spoiled from her life as the Spicer's maid … but that didn't change how little she wanted to be here. She had braved the self-driving helicopter, and had left her charge alone. She drew a calming breath, laid her hands on the table, and readied herself to do what she come here to do.

"You," she said, breaking the silence, giving Raimundo a pointed look. "I came here to talk to you,"

Raimundo refused to make eye contact, and uneasily shifted his weight.

"I know you don't know me. But my name is Grace Cruz, and I work for your friend, Jack Spicer …"

Every eye in the room dilated in sudden interest, the woman's sudden arrival seeming a little less out of place now. Master Fung resisted the urge to sigh, feeling a headache form in between his temples. Dojo quietly lit more candles in the hanging lanterns, making the shadows of frozen people dance.

"I … he … he said that he lost at his game. That you beat him and took away all his Shn Gon Wus"

Despite himself Raimundo winced. Clay averted his eyes to stare out the large rectangular window. Kimiko barely bit back a correction on the names of the magical artifacts.

"He … I … You see …" Grace sighed, "Jack is a very proud boy. It's hard for you to understand but … but, well, he didn't have the best of upbringings. He had … well, he had a lot of school problems too …" her hands folded together once again. "Though he might not seem it … Jack … Jack is a very sad little boy who doesn't have many friends. Your Shn Gon Wus game made so very very happy … and it hurts him a lot that he can no longer play with you. I want … you see … I want you to let him play again. I'll gladly pay for his replacement Wus if that's what you want … but please … just please let him play with you again,"

"WHAT?!" Omi bellowed, his face so crinkled in confusion it almost obscured his facial features. Master Fung held up a hand for silence.

"Ms. Cruz, I'm afraid you misunderstand what the Shen gong Wu are, and what exactly they stand for. They are not toys, and their retrieval is not a game … but rather is a manifestation of good vs. evil where the very world often hangs in the balance," he said gently. Grace turned her eyes from Raimundo to the aged Zen master, the pleading gaze softening to becoming one of weary understanding.

"I understand. I understand. Jack has shown me your items … and explained to me the intricacies of your game. I understand the amount of money that must go into creating that array of items and then hiding them around the world. I _understand_ that it will not be cheep for you to let him play again. What I'm saying though is, if you can give me a price … any price at all … I will pay it,"

Master Fung sighed. "The Shen Gong Wu are valuable magical artifacts. They are not for sale,"

"Of course they are. How much do you want for several of them?" Grace countered, her eyes hardening. Master Fung's eyes met her's unflinchingly, and coolly repeated;

"I told you. They are not for sale".

"Jack is a good boy," Grace hissed angrily. "Let him play with you,"

"You may not believe me, but this battle we wage is not a game,"

"Please!" Grace yelled, slamming her fists on the table. "You want me to believe that these … these … _things_ are real magic? That all of this is some grand battle between good and evil? Tell me then … how many people have _DIED_ protecting these magical artifacts? Why weren't they kept together and guarded rather then scattered across the world in some scavenger hunt fashion? Jack has come home hurt … sometimes badly hurt … with broken bones and such … but he never said that you were out to kill him … that this was a battle of ideologies rather then simply over things. You think I'm so naive as to believe in MAGIC of all things? Its plain to see that this is some game concocted by people with far to much money and far to much time … but be that as it may, do NOT exclude my Jack, and then claim its because he's 'evil',"

"It may be difficult to believe … but …"

"Ridiculous!" Grace cut the master monk off. "You really sound as if you believe in this magic crap. I no more believe that these Shn Gone Woes are magic then I believe that fairies fix shoes or that the sun is pulled by a godly chariot. Stop feeding me these lies and tell me WHY you won't let Jack play with you. What do you want?! Tell me what you want and I'll fix it," she continued, her nails digging into the table.

Master Fung sighed.

"As long as you seek for something, you will get the shadow of reality and not reality itself," he quoted.

Every face turned towards the aged Zen master, wearing different forms of confusion. Master Fung said nothing more though, and lifted his glass to sip his tea, knowing he would not budge from his stance.

A moment later, Grace asked;

"And that means?"

"It means, that the Shen Gong Wu are not for sale,"

Grace closed her eyes and lipped her lips. She drew in several deep calming breathes, while she tried to calm her anger. Of all the possibilities she had planed for, she would admit that this was not an outcome she had been prepared for.

"Fine," she said softly, looking at the table in defeat. "The Wus are not for sale," She loosened her grip on the table, and slowly met the master monk's eyes. "What about if they just come to visit then? I'm sure it would mean the world to Jack if his friends came to see him,"

Master Fung said nothing for a moment, but slowly turned to look at each of his students.

"That would be their decision,"

Grace turned again to Raimundo. "What do you say Raimundo? Come visit with him? … Just for a little while? Please?"

The whole conversation the wind dragon's eyes had never left the floor. He'd avoided looking at this woman … avoided trying to remember what he'd done. More and more she made Jack look like a lonely child … blurring all the memories the monks had of him as a twisted psychopath villain. It wasn't lost on anyone that Grace was singling Raimundo out … pleading with _him,_ rather then _them_, to come and see their rival.

Slowly Raimundo drug his gaze away from the floor and looked at his mentor. Master Fung stared into the jade irises … seeing a side of Raimundo he'd never seen before. Uncertainty, fear, sorrow, … Raimundo was on the verge of tears.

"Please?" Grace's voice was soft, pleading, the sound of a grandmother begging to see her grandchild just one last time.

"The choice is yours Raimundo," Master Fung said gently.

"Rai?" Kimiko added.

"Buddy?" murmured Clay.

"Absolutely NOT!" hollered Omi.

Every eye in the room stared at Raimundo, as silence once again gained control of the room. Every eye holding something different … ranging from sorrow, to understanding, to anger, to confusion, to apprehension.

A moment later, the Brazilian softly murmured;

"Whatever. Fine. I'll go visit him,"

"Thank you," Grace sighed in relief.

"Make sure to take the golden tiger claws before you leave young monk," Master Fung added, as Raimundo stood up and followed Grace out the temple doors.

"… What the heck is going on?" Kimiko asked, watching Grace and Raimundo fade into the night.

"I sure hope that's a good idea partner," Clay mumbled, likewise watching the departing pair.

"Master Fung! Why would let him go! Jack Spicer is our enemy! And this is surely a trap to get Raimundo … ohhhhhh … he'll go there and then his chicken will indeed be cooked!" Omi raved.

"Goose partner. Then his 'goose' will be cooked," Clay half-heartedly corrected.

"Whatever!" Omi yelled back in response.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step," Master Fung replied, turning from his pupils to again stare into his tea … and hoping that he had done the right thing, letting the wind dragon go.

* * *

Author's notes; 

Niaho all!

I know … I know … I've been gone for a while (…alright, replace 'while' with 'seemingly forever'). No, I haven't forgotten this fic … its just slow goings with it (as, after re-reading it I hate most of the old chapters … and honestly I'm not really fond of this one either).

But, that being said, a few quick things;

1) Woot! A master Fung orientated chapter. I like the old badger, and he hardly ever seems to get any real screen time or character development. I wanted to show a more objective (and more mature) look at everything that's going on and that's transpired. Master Fung is being kept in the dark (as are Kimiko and Omi) about what Rai knows/feels … and Clay's that loyal friend who won't go out and share other people's business … thus we have a lot tension, with no one quite knowing 100 what's going on.

2) Grace … ugh, Grace. Grace didn't quite come out the way I wanted her. I originally meant to present her as that strong grandmother type of person (that very strong personality, mixed with the best of intentions). Instead she came out more as a permissive mother (… which is actually understandable. She means well and looks at Jack as her son … but its him, the child, who has all the finical/housing power. All the power really. She can't MAKE Jack do anything, something that she realizes; deep down, because she's not his mother. All of this made all the more complex by the fact that Ophelia still technically lives in the mansion to boot. So I suppose its only natural that Grace came out as more stuttery and weak then I had intended her to be).

3) I know it was probably awkward … but I didn't want this chapter to be about the dragons … thus why Master Fung did all the talking. I wanted a more objective chapter so that I could try to show what's going on through all the different eyes that are viewing these events unfolding (though yes … the first page or two of this chapter was just to remind everyone of the basic plotline, in case they didn't want to re-read the last five chapters).

4) Grace doesn't believe in magic … and think about it, seriously. Would you? She thinks she's dealing with kids as rich, smart and inventive as Jack (… she actually thinks Dojo is a robot). The vast majority of the world (in the Xiaolin universe) acts like the real world … where magic doesn't exist. Furthermore Grace is older (think upper fifties), she's seen the technological progression … and lives with Jack. Obviously she's ganna have some different ideas of what the Shen Gong Wu are (… and Jack doesn't exactly explain to her that he is/was fighting for the evil team). (And as for Wuya/Grace … they've never met. Wuya never bothered to meet the 'hired help' so avoided Grace the few rare times they might have come in contact).

5) The title (and all the zen-esk things Master Fung says this chapter) ARE Zen quotes … and as of such I claim no credit for them.

6) How did Grace know which one was Raimundo right off the bat? Well, that will be explained once I get to the next chapter!

7) Lemme see … my life (personally/academically) is utterly chaotic … so I'm not quite sure when the next chapter will surface. Just letting you all know that I haven't forgotten this piece … (and the next chapter should be a really good one. We get to see Rai/Jack re-meet … AND Wuya starts getting her arc as of the next chapter … which trust me, should definitely surprise you guys).

8) Part of the reason this is so late is because I was going to write to ahead-ahead because a friend of mine was going to draw me a piece of fan art. Having never gotten fan art before, I wanted to post a link to it and purr in joy that I actually inspired someone to draw something. Seeing as her computer ate her work … I figured I still owed you guys an update (and I pushed that scene to the next chapter … hopefully so I can link it then … though she's been busy with school too … so I'm kinda doubting it).

9) And finally … thank you all so much for your continued support. I know I've been terrible posting chapters with any regularity … but it really boosts my confidence (and makes me want to write more for you guys) when I see all your super shibby reviews. Thank you all … you're the best reviewers a fan-auother can ask for!

As per usual … if you've any questions/personal comments the e-mails listed on the main page. Catch ya all next time.

Laters!

-Shiva's Avatar-


	8. Chapter Seven

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Seven – And We've Only Just Begun …

By- Shiva's Avatar

The interlocking circles were drawn with faultless precision. The complicated accompanying glyphs completed so perfectly that even the ancient ghost was left in awe. It had taken decades of intense study for Wuya to master the intricate patience and skill necessary to create the magic emblem that now covered the floor of Jack's old lab. It would have taken Wuya, the mightiest sorceress of her time; hundreds of tries to replicate this design to this necessary degree of perfection.

For nothing could be out of place if this spell was to work. The smallest imperfection, even the slightest line incorrectly drawn, could prove disastrous to the specter's plans. Wuya knew that she had only one try to cast this enchantment, and knew well that if she failed the cost would high indeed. For in the middle of seven sets of interlocking circles lay the Reversing Mirror.

If everything was successful, Wuya would at last know freedom from Dashi's curse. It would not restore her physical body, but would at least allow her access to the full use of her magic. And armed with curses and spells taught to her by Heylin masters, Wuya had few fears that she would lack for the pleasures of flesh for long. She'd already thought of countless bodies that could forcefully inhabit, her former companion topping her list. Jack Spicer's body offered her youth, strength, and access to the boy's seemingly limitless resources. Wuya privately admitted that his gender proved to be a slight detriment, and would be a point of endless irritation as she was forced to readjust her ways.

But the advantages that body commanded vastly outweighed such minor inconveniences as gender. She could almost taste the power that would again be her's to command. Countless times as she'd watched Xiaolin showdowns, she'd mouthed the arcane words, only to have their magic stopped by that wretched monk's mask. But no longer. For too long Wuya had been enslaved to this foul intangible state.

Despite all her bravado though, Wuya again felt that fearsome twinge of desperation that had driven her to this point. Jack had proved unresponsive to her badgering, ignoring her multiple demands, pleas, and threats. The teen perpetually sat in his room nowadays, his ears covered in headphones that screamed out metallic tones that blocked the ghost's words, as the Spicer protégée lay on his bed reading or sat at his computer, fingers tapping the lettered keys at a pace so fast it was surreal. And though Wuya hated to admit it, she needed Jack.

The other minions she might coerce to help her, were either too stupid, too weak, or too untrustworthy to battle the Xiaolin warriors. Jack alone had walked that thin line between good and evil, egotistical enough to fight for world domination, and malicious enough to torment his opponents with a host of evil schemes. But loyal enough that would never truly dismiss his spectral advisor. Wuya could count on her hand, had she any fingers to count with, the times that Jack's rebelish attitude had actually conflicted with her own personal plans. Before now, the only thing Wuya had been unable to convince the boy to do was to kill the Xiaolin dragons.

And then everything had changed.

Wuya had watched the events unfold. Had taken note of Raimundo's stutter and watched the way the blood had drained from his face as he read aloud from the ancient Chinese artifact. She had watched Jack's transformation from weak willed child to cold hearted tyrant, and had heard the feral sound of the evil genius's emotional collapse. She had been present as the drama had played out, and yet Wuya could not understand what had been so traumatic that it had cost her minion his will to fight. The puzzle bothered Wuya, and watching the boy's interaction with the raving lunatic kept on the third floor had unnerved her.

None of that mattered though. None of that could matter if she was to do what needed to be done.

Jack had failed her. He had become unreliable, and therefore expendable. Wuya pushed aside the flutter of guilt that rose inside her. Jack had signed his own death warrant when he decided that the battle between the Xiaolin dragons and the Heylin forces was nothing more then a game … a game he no longer wished to play.

"Mistress Wuya. Preparations are complete to your given specifications,"

The lavender ghost turned and regarded her sole remaining companion, a mirror reflection to the boy she had just been thinking of. Jack-bot had proven his worth a thousand times over in the day that he had been under Wuya's control. Since neither ghost or machine require any rest, and because the machine wasted no time whining about the duties required of it, they had completed a magical array that should have taken weeks to prepare, in a mere twenty-seven hours.

The sorceress commanded and the machine obeyed. Wuya regarded the machine with more respect then she did the vast multitude of humans that served her over the last year and half, ever since she had broken free of her puzzle box prison.

"Everything is as I have demanded?" the ghost asked, hardly daring to hope.

"Of course!" the machine replied, giving her a grin and thumbs up.

Soaring over the painted floor, Wuya critically inspected every inch with a decisive eye. Perfection was all she saw, the machine having followed her instructions with pin point precision.

All that remained was the ritual's words. Words that despite centuries of imprisonment had not dissipated in Wuya's mind. The specter felt its confidence soar, as she waved the Jack-bot to an empty corner of the room, and moved to float above the Reversing Mirror.

Purple arms raised above the mask covered face as Wuya began her chant, speaking a language far older then any could imagine. The words were from a time long past, when the elements had not been content to simply sleep, but had interacted in the fate of the world. Elementals had wondered the world serving as soldiers in armies, and the wisest dragons had whispered the secrets of the universe to those who would heed their call.

For the first time in ages though, the words did more the bolster the sorceress's confidence. As she chanted, spiral irises watched as the glittering runes began to glow with a steady pulsing power. As the words rolled on and on, time meaning nothing to the specter, the pulse grew more and more pronounced, until it became the throbbing of a heartbeat that the caster lacked. The arcing lines glimmered with multicolored hues and mystical forces seemed to bleed from the steel floor.

"Bring it to me," Wuya hissed, feeling the ecstasy only her magic could provide. Reverently, as though sensing the seriousness of the ceremony being performed, Jack-bot removed the shroud of shadows from his chest compartment, and laid it at the outermost circle. Wuya's chant became more pronounced, as she threw back her head, screaming the mystical words.

Slowly the shroud of shadows began to age. Silken black fabric becoming coarse and then slowly crumbling to worthless ash. In seconds the magic that had powered the shroud was leached, fueling the glowing circles to shine with a brilliance befitting the sun.

Wuya continued her chant. The words rolling from her very core, some light and lyrical like a dancing summer breeze, others coarse and guttural as a rolling stone. In some verses she flowed with the grace of an age old river, while in other stanzas her voice nearly crackled as though born from ancient flame. The words seemed endless, and a living, breathing mortal would have found themselves hard pressed to manage the correct inflection for every part of the complicated spell.

Wuya was no mere mortal though. For years the witch had thrived on magic, using it as her principle weapon. In a time of sword and sorcery she had risen above all the rest, earning the well deserved reputation as the most powerful sorceress in the world. So it surprised the specter greatly when she stopped her chant on the last word, forestalling the now unavoidable conclusion of her spell.

She saw his ruby colored eyes. His flame colored hair. Saw his smile, and heard his laugh. Wuya knew they were nothing more then her imagination, visions of no real consequence … but still she felt her soul recoil at the actions she was about to take. Having spent weeks and weeks with the child, time had somehow made him worth something, even when his battle value was constantly in flux. She had abandoned him for longer periods of time then the day they'd been apart … but a part of Wuya shuddered at the notion of truly losing her minion.

But that didn't matter. It couldn't matter …

She didn't remember speaking the trigger word, but a fraction of a second later, the lavender spirit screamed as pain as fearsome as an inferno engulfed her entire being. The burning agony so horrific that the ghost couldn't even find breathe to hold her scream. Incorporeal arms wrapped around a transparent torso, as Wuya, the most powerful sorceress who had ever lived, sobbed.

She saw his ruby red eyes, filled with tears at the thought of losing her.

She heard him scream out her name, begging her to survive.

She felt his hands, their living warmth desperately trying to comfort her.

Wuya knew they were only her imagination, visions of no real consequence. But with vivid clarity, as her form shuddered underneath a pain so terrible it brought tears to the eyes of a master of torture, Wuya knew that if she died now … Jack, alone, would be the only one to mourn her.

She saw his ruby red eyes, and didn't see the glow fade from her magical array.

She heard his whimpering, though comforting, voice, which made her miss the explosion as the Reversing Mirror shattered, sending multicolored shards hurtling throughout the room.

She felt his hands, his callused hands that were so strangely soft, and the pain drained out of her incorporeal form.

Wuya snuck to her knees, ghostly fingers dragging through spectral hair. Why him?! Of everything she stood to gain … her magic, her power, the very world! In her most glorious moment, why did that … that … _child's_ tears outshine the power to manipulate the cosmos themselves?!

"Mistress Wuya?" Jack-bot asked, his face a mask of concern, shards of glass littering his body.

"A mirror,"

It didn't matter. It couldn't matter ….

"What?" the machine asked, mirroring the boy who had crafted it, just as it had been designed to do.

"Bring me a mirror!" the sorceress screamed.

The robot quickly bowed and then disappeared into the upper level of the house. Quickly finding what his master desired, he returned down the steel steps, to see Wuya completely unmoved from where she had sunk on the floor. Jack-bot said nothing as he held the mirror in front of him, as though understanding the importance of this moment.

Wuya felt her lips mouth the arcane words, as she drew the courage to lift her head and face her reflection. Feeling the power behind those words, she knew without looking that her spell had been a success. But she needed to actually see it. Needed visual proof that the sacrifice of two Xiaolin artifacts had not been in vain.

Seconds turned to minutes, but Jack-bot's steady hands didn't waver. Inch by inch Wuya lifted her chin, until she found her own eyes staring back her. And then she laughed.

She laughed in joy at her newfound height, as she no longer floated a mere foot high. She laughed at her river of hair, finally free from the monk's clay mask. She laughed at her nose, her chin, her cheeks and her eyes. Granted all still held a purple tint, but Wuya reveled in the return of the natural shape of her being.

And she laughed, because she had thought that this would complete the most difficult phase of her plans … and just realized now that that flutter of guilt at betraying her ally may cost her more then she had initially planned.

But that didn't matter. It couldn't matter …

XXXXXXXXXXX

For the third time he lifted his free hand to knock on the oaken barrier, held his knuckle tantalizingly close to wood, but then, for the third time, withdrew his hand and stared instead at the door in mute suffering. The meat on the silver tray he had been given had long lost its steam, and he didn't doubt for a moment that the soda sitting beside it was likewise untantalizingly warm. Emerald eyes darted again from the food laden tray, to the wooden door, to the golden claws hanging on his belt. Escape was literally only three words away, but the same way Raimundo couldn't force himself to knock on Jack's bedroom door, he similarly couldn't just abandon the promise he'd made to Grace.

Raimundo smiled darkly at that, wondering again why he'd even made the promise to begin with. He'd said that he'd talk to Jack, and try to work everything out … which was about as likely to happen as Master Fung going an entire conversation without sneaking in a Zen proverb. Raimundo had no idea what to say that could possibly make this better, as he somehow thought a simple; "So, umm, Jack.. Yeah, really sorry I, you know, punched you in the face, wrote your name in an ancient artifact that revealed to me you're deepest and most personal struggles, and then abandoned you in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, my bad. Wanna go get a soda and be friends?" … just wasn't going to cut it.

And this was of course considering the possibility that Jack actually let him talk. Raimundo knew the self-proclaimed boy genius had every right to open his door, see who was standing outside it, and then just slam the door in his face. Raimundo couldn't even fault him for it, not after everything he'd done to the weaker teen.

The wind dragon shut his eyes, and clenched his free fist. Why had he always picked on Jack? With vivid clarity he recalled every taunt he'd thrown at the other boy, remembered every shen gong wu battle where he'd done his best to humiliate his opponent in every possible way. Jade eyes opened again, and Raimundo let out a small sigh, and to think, all Jack had ever wanted was to be his friend.

Raimundo bite his lip, and lifted his hand again. He could do this. He had to do this …

Before his knuckle could brush wood though, the door popped open, a solemn looking boy emerging from the room. Dark red hair hung wildly around the boys face, framing a somber looking face with twin ruby red eyes. The boy wore velvety looking pajamas, the tailored black outfit seeming to soften his appearance, making him appear younger then his seventeen years.

Raimundo blinked. If it hadn't been for those eyes he would never have guessed this boy to be Jack Spicer, self-proclaimed evil genius and the archrival to the Xiaolin warriors. Staring into flame colored eyes, Raimundo had a front row seat to watch them dilate.

"Can I help you?" the words might have sounded sarcastic, but it was impossible for Raimundo to miss the older boy flinch. Red eyes darted away from his face, fixating on some distant place on the wall behind the wind monk, as pale white hands developed a death grip on the door frame.

Raimundo winced at the unmistakable fear the Spicer protégée exuded. It hurt that the wind dragon's ego that much more because he knew that reaction was well deserved.

"Ummm … yeah … you see … I … well … you see," Raimundo found words hard to come by, as all the apologetic lines he'd prepared abandoned his memory. Silently he cursed himself for not being better prepared. He swallowed hard, and watched as Jack took baby steps backwards, slipping back towards the safety of his room.

"Wait! Food!" Raimundo yelled suddenly, trying to stop the expected slam of that door. Once he yelled Jack's entire body flinched backwards, rabbit eyes darting frantically for some safe retreat.

"I mean … you see … I …" words suddenly failing him again, Raimundo instead brought the food laden tray to the forefront of the conversation. Ruby red eyes inspected the tray, and then briefly examined Raimundo's flushed face, before falling to stare at the white carpet.

"What do you want Raimundo?" Jack mumbled, not taking his eyes off the floor, feeling his stomach clench from the turbulent emotions raging inside of him.

"I … Grace … I … you see … food," Raimundo drew a shuddering breath and started over, determined to get it right. "Grace was worried about you … so I brought you some food. I thought we could, you know, talk. Maybe work all this out,"

The words sounded wrong, but Raimundo was nearly overjoyed to manage to get a sentence out without a stutter. Nearby, Jack's mind whirled as the boy pushed aside emotions to read the scenario unfolding before him. Closing his eyes, he finally achieved resolution, as mental gears clicked together and one probability gained the highest percentage of likely hood.

"Nothing really for us to talk about is there?" Jack asked quietly, slipping his hands underneath the tray, careful to avoid any physical contact with Raimundo. "It's all really simple isn't it? I … heh, I love you. You don't love me. But you're a good enough guy to feel sorry for me because of all the shit I've been through,"

Raimundo blinked in confusion.

"Whatever though, right? Shit happens. No hard feelings. After all the things I've done, a black eye is the least I deserve, right? So we're even, alright? You don't have to feel guilty and check on me, and I'll get over you and move on with my life. That work?" Jack started to lift the tray, keeping his voice distant. Inside his stomach ached so badly that he feared any moment now Raimundo was going to see through his calm facade when he puked all over the beautiful Brazilian. Jack almost shuddered at that thought, as if Raimundo didn't hate him enough already.

"I … you see … I," Raimundo hated himself. Desperately he tried to find something to say, while his stomach heaved and words avoided any coherent pattern.

"… thanks for coming to see me though," Jack said taking a few steps back into his room, his plans to go and visit Ophelia utterly nullified. Part of him soared at the fact Raimundo had come to visit him though, as he wondered if maybe he'd meant something … anything … to the wind dragon. Part of him hated Raimundo for coming too though, as it only served to show Jack the full extent of the boy who would never love him.

"Sorry," Raimundo grunted. Jack didn't catch the word, but wasn't sure he wanted to ask for his crush to repeat himself, so just nodded and started to nudge the door close with a foot.

"Sorry," Raimundo said louder, his fist clenched. Jack only nodded again, his eyes glued to the tray in his hands, and continued to nudge the door closed. With painful slowness the door finally clicked shut, and with startling quickness Jack dropped the tray on his desk and snapped the door's lock. With a shuddering sigh he placed his hands on the desk to steady himself, trying to regulate his breathing, and resisting the urge to cry.

"Shit. Shit. SHIT!!" Raimundo's bass soared through the Spicer mansion, his heaving stomach exploding to wrenching torment.

"Shit! SHIT! SHIT!!!" Raimundo roared, slamming his fist into Jack's door. Over and over he felt his fists connect with solid wood, undeniable proof of his failure. It was pathetic … he was pathetic. He should have said something … anything … should have made Jack understand how sorry he really was. How the hell could he have fucked this up so badly? It was obvious Jack didn't believe him, it was obvious that Jack was scared shitless that he was going to hit him again.

So unable to vocalize the complex feelings tearing him apart, Raimundo did the only thing he could think of. He hit the door again and again, coating ancient oak with a patchwork of dents and near holes.

"Shit," Raimundo said again after his temper had played out, resting his palms and forehead on a nearby wall. He didn't understand why this upset him so much, he'd come here fully realizing the fact that Jack was never going to forgive him. Raimundo hiccupped, and felt tears start to leak out. Jack wasn't supposed to quit, he wasn't supposed to leave, and sure as hell wasn't supposed to be sad. He was supposed to be pouting in his lab and scheming up some new plot to steal the shen gong wu. It wasn't supposed to end this way … This was wrong. So very, very wrong …

"Jesus Rai … are you okay?

And just like that, Jack was back. His door cracked open an inch, and rabbit eyes peering out.

"'m sorry," Raimundo whispered to those unjudging eyes. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't know,"

He hiccupped again, and tried to discreetly wipe his eyes with a forearm.

"Look Rai … Raimundo, its fine. I'm okay, really. This isn't anything new," the door slipped open a little wider, as if to show that Jack was still all there. As if to show that he was okay.

"I promise I won't make fun of you anymore. Neither will Kimiko or Clay … and Omi's to dumb to say anything mean, but I'll make him stop too," Jack leaned against the partially opened door, Raimundo kept a hand on the wall to keep him steady. Raimundo didn't buy the act, things weren't supposed to have happened this way …

A lavender flash arced by, and both boys turned searching for the blur of motion they could have sworn they saw. Jack shook his head, tried to gather his thoughts, and fervently hoped that he wasn't hallucinating now. Raimundo looked back to Jack and decided diarrhea of the mouth was better then the developing awkward silence.

"And-I-didn't-tell-anyone-that-your-mom-was-fuckin'-crazy … and-Master-Fung-locked-away-that-stupid-book-so-no-one-will-use-it-again … and-Grace-is-really-worried-about-you-and-so-is-Master-Fung-and-Clay-and-Kimiko-and-even-though-he-doesn't-say-it-Omi's-worried-too-and-I-guess-I-miss-you-too … but-you-know,-in-a-viallian-hero-sort-of-way-not-in-a-like-like-you-way … well … I-mean-I-like-you-I-just-you-know-don't-LIKE-you-like-you … and-your-mom-never-should'a-done-that-stuff-or-said-that-stuff-to-you,-because-your-really-smart-and-cool … and-I-always-thought-your-robots-were-really-neat … I-mean,-especially-cuz-you-build-them-yourself,-and-they-run … I-tried-to-make-one-of-those-kits,-you-know,-those-electronic-kit-things?-Well-I-tried-one-of-those-once-and-I-couldn't-even-believe-how-many-wires-there-were,-and-I-couldn't-get-the-stupid-red-light-to-blink … I-got-the-green-one-to-blink,-though-but-not-the-red-one," Raimundo sniffled, and felt tears threaten his eyes again "And-I'm-really-really-sorry-I-hit-you-I-didn't-know-your-mom-hit-you-and-stuff … and-I-really-didn't-know-you-were-a-fa… I-mean-I-didn't-know-that-you-liked-guys … I-mean … I-mean …I-didn't-know-that-you-liked-me-and-I-shouldn't-of-hit-you-and-I'm-really-really-sorry … and … and … "

Jack watched as Raimundo hiccupped again, and then watched as the wind dragon drug his arm across his eyes, which did little hide the tears. Jack felt an incisor dig into his lower lip as he watched the younger boy continue to babble. Watched mutely as Raimundo offered to let him join the Xiaolin temple if he wanted to, offered him several Shen gong wu … any shen gong wu he liked … if he'd come back and challenge the Xiaolin dragons. He watched as Raimundo apologized over and over again for hitting him, for picking on him, and for being mean to him. Completely confused, Jack watched as Raimundo broke down, the normally cocky teen sobbingly offering anything to make things alright between the two of them.

Jack resisted the urge to touch the other boy. Fiercely resisted the almost driving desire to embrace the other teen, and hold him close. To let Raimundo's sob into his shoulder, to run fingers through Raimundo's gravity defying hairs. Touching would ruin everything, as he could easily imagine Raimundo's less then appreciative reaction. But apparently this situation was salvageable … maybe he could never have Raimundo as a boyfriend, but perhaps … if these offers weren't simply out of guilt, which only time would tell … maybe, just maybe he could have Raimundo as a boy, who happened to also be a friend.

"Did you … Look …" Jack sighed, and started over. "I'm not feeling well Raimundo, can we talk about this in the morning? You can stay in the guest room, and we'll talk over breakfast, ok?"

Jack quietly appreciated the irony that he could have this conversation now, but Raimundo needed time to recoup. Jack resisted the urge to smile at the fact that finally someone other then him was crying, doubting a grin would go over well with his emotionally distraught … friend?

"m'm sorry," Raimundo murmured, furiously wiping his eyes again.

"It's ok. I just … I think we both need some time. You know? To think things over. I don't know about you but I haven't been sleeping well, so let's just go to bed. We can talk about it in the morning,"

Jack stepped out of his room and walked down the hallway, gesturing for Raimundo to follow. Hesitantly the wind dragon did so, and six doors later, Jack twisted a knob revealing a lavish bedroom. Raimundo missed the oriental design, the Ming vase, the powder blue sheets and comforter, and the window view overlooking the koi pond, as his attention was still fixated on Jack.

"So, just get some sleep, we'll talk tomorrow," Jack repeated, walking carefully around Raimundo to prevent accidental contact. Which only amplified his flinch when Raimundo's hand flew out, and grabbed his sleeve, tugging him closer. With almost utter nonchalance Raimundo's face drew closer, as jade eyes seemed to search out every inch of the older boy's face. When Jack tried to turn away, a hand softly forced his chin to turn back, forcing flame colored irises to meet emerald colored spheres. The bruise Raimundo was looking for was carefully concealed behind cosmetics though, so the only discoloration he found was red as Jack's face blushed.

"I'm sorry," Raimundo apologized again, releasing his grip and stepping back guiltily, almost as if realizing what he'd done, eyes falling to stare at the floor.

"No big deal," Jack responded, turning around to hide his blush, and began heading for his room. "Catch you tomorrow Rai … Raimundo,"

"Please don't hate me," the words stopped Jack in his tracks, and he closed his eyes as he felt his stomach again twist painfully. His heartbeat was so loud he wondered if the whole mansion heard it, as it echoed along the empty walls.

"Somehow, I don't think that's going to be a problem," Jack murmured to himself, wishing he could hate the Brazilian. Wished he could do something to end his unhealthy fascination with the Xiaolin dragon.

"I don't hate you Raimundo. Goodnight," Jack said louder, hurrying to his room before Raimundo could say anything more. Closing the door he felt himself lean against it, wondering what the hell he was going to say tomorrow, and knowing that as restless as the last few nights had been, there was no way he would be sleeping tonight.

Down the hall, Raimundo sat on the soft bed, staring out the window, never noticing the beautiful view it offered. He alternately berated and scolded himself for not handling this better, desperately trying to find the right words so that he could more eloquently talk to Jack tomorrow. Looking at his belt he again gave the golden tiger claws a wistful glare … escape was literally only three words away. But he couldn't leave now. He promised Grace, and though it hurt to admit it, Raimundo knew that the cause of all these problems had been his own thoughtless and impulsive nature. He owed it to Jack to stay and see things through, no matter how poorly things turned out.

Raimundo brushed a finger down the cold metal tied to his hip.

"This is really ganna suck," he sighed, watching as the tip of the sun peaked over the horizon.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Wuya was confused. Actually, confused was putting it lightly, as the specter paced silently up and down the hallway, completely at a loss as to the events unfolding around her. Why had the Xiaolin monk come? What was his goal? Why would the dragons WANT Jack back as their rival, when it only served to place the world in danger? More importantly, as she'd only heard snatches of the conversation as she'd had to constantly evade the overly perceptive teens, what did Jack mean to Raimundo? What did Raimundo mean to Jack? Growling, Wuya drug her ghostly fingers through her hair.

Then she stopped, sighed, and smiled. She'd forgotten.

She almost laughed at herself and her foolishness. She had her magic! No secret could remain hidden from her any longer, and she didn't need to sulk around in walls to try and gather information. Without pause she turned and phased through the wall that led to Raimundo's room, smirking as the teen sensed her presence and began to turn around.

With a gesture and word Raimundo's head stopped mid-turn, and his body collapsed onto the bed. Had the dragon been prepared, Wuya knew that such a trivial spell never would have succeeded, but the wind dragon was tired and distracted, leaving huge holes in his defenses. Even walking, Wuya seemed to float across the room, running ethereal fingers across the sleeping boy's body. She allowed herself a moment to reveal in her handiwork, a mystic incantation that had so easily defeated her foe. It was almost like old times.

Wuya's smile widened an inch. Raimundo didn't know it, but with a few more words she could stop his heart. With ease you could slide her hands through his throat and choke the life from him, all with her magic. That aside, Wuya knew that killing the monk now would be counterproductive to her plans, so with a few whispered words she shifted his body onto his back, and leaned over his prone form.

Chuckling at the irony, she let immaterial lips touch their living counterpart. Then she shoved her head deeper, pushing her head into Raimundo's skull, whispering the words that would open his mind to her.

So with ease Wuya relived that Xiaolin showdown. She read the words as they appeared in the black book of Exedon. She watched Raimundo's breakdown in the woods, and bore witness to Grace's entrance. Moments later, when Wuya pulled free from the sleeping boy, she viewed him with different eyes.

There was more. Though she lacked the time to see all the body's memories, she had shifted through Raimundo's past, paged through his dreams, and had seen what truly drove the boy. It was all inconsequential … stored away later in case it turned out to be useful, but unimportant to Wuya's current predicament.

The ancient sorceress sighed, as it did offer new difficulties to her already problem laden equation though. But perhaps …

She nodded to herself as new plans began to form, replacing the old. Without looking back, she phased through walls until she came to Jack's bedroom. The Spicer protégée was at his computer, fingers dancing across the lettered keys, his eyes glued to the glittering screen. Again, with the simplest of gestures and words he too fell asleep, his head hitting the keyboard with a painful thump.

Wuya shook her head; it was all almost too easy now. So with ease she phased through Jack's corporeal form, and plundered his soul for his secrets. She spent more time examining his mind then she did Raimundo's, watching the most painful of his memories with a detached calm. She watched the distant and unloving father, the psychotic mother, and the manipulative friends. She meet the psychiatrist Dr. Raphael, and came to know Grace on an intimate level. She watched as past molded Jack into the being the lay before her, and silently applauded the boy's inner strength and resolve. Stepping out of the boy, Wuya knew that the time for hesitance had passed. She needed a physical body soon, so she could cement her place in the physical world, and quickly regain her full strength before enemies found out that she had slipped her bonds.

The question remained though. To posses her former minion or not. Coldly Wuya factored out the boy and what he might mean to her. His past, his pain, his love … all of it was ultimately inconsequential. None of it mattered … none of it could matter.

"Ah, you're lucky my little idiot. Lucky that a more promising form is within my reach," the ghost whispered several moments later, finally making her decision. And with that she turned and walked through a nearby wall. Seconds later she was in Jack's former lab, giving Jack-bot a few final commands. After watching to make sure he began his tasks post haste, Wuya then slipped through the empty mansion hallway.

She stopped when she finally came to the door. One last time she considered her options, and decided that this was the best of all the choices presented to her.

She smiled as she phased through the wooden barrier, knowing that this would be the last time she walked through a door simply because she lacked the flesh to open it. The dark drapes blotted out the rising sun, leaving the room in a perpetual gloom, but Wuya had no problems finding the body she sought. Lying on the bed, two robotic caretakers hovering nearby, lay Ophelia Spicer.

Wuya padded over, her smile widening.

"Hello new body," she whispered softly, her hands already making the necessary arcane movements, as she began to cast yet another powerful spell.

* * *

Author's Notes; 

Miss me? Because I missed all of you. This chapter was pain to write … which is one of the reasons you've been waiting so long for it. More and more though I'm finding that this fic keeps going on and on … so chances are you all have quite a few more chapters to look forward to (… so long as you want to stick with me and my uber slow update schedule – which yes, I do apologize for, but school and work are always ganna come first). But I promise, it only gets better from here!

That being said, a few quick things;

1) Those of you who review are the best. I'm still floored by the overwhelmingly positive response to this fic. Keep it coming, and I promise to do my best in supplying you all with (decently written?) reading material.

2) … Raimundo cries a lot this chapter. Part of this is supposed to be exhaustion (… I messed up, and didn't let more time eclipse from when everything went down). He's guilt ridden, he's exhausted, and he's faced in a situation that he doesn't know how to handle (… he's used to being confident about himself … which is kind of hard when he's playing to an audience that he thinks hates him).

3) Wuya. I do love Wuya. As you can tell, the plot is really just beginning. (and cookies to anyone who can guess what other schemes Wuya has rolling around in that twisted brain of hers). Also, the beginnings of Jack/Rai romance are sprinkled in this chapter … did you catch them?

4) Someone mentioned (and I have to agree) that Raimundo has gotten nearly as much characterization as Jack. Watch the next couple of chapters (especially the next one) and you'll be getting more and more not only about Raimundo, but also about Wuya and Jack too.

5) Anyways … I'm exhausted (so the author's notes may not be up to snuff … I spent all my energy editing. This is about the third or fourth draft of this chapter … and I figured you all would just prefer me posting rather then spending another week editing the stupid author's notes). But again, thanks for your continued support despite my lesser then stellar update schedule. No matter how long it might take for me to update, you all can bet that I haven't forgotten my little pet project here!

So, until next time folks!

-Shiva's Avatar-


	9. Chapter Eight

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Eight – Monsoon Memories

By- Shiva's Avatar

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**WARNING – Effective this chapter, this fic has been moved up to a MA rating. This mostly comes from a scene during Raimundo's flashback. If boy/boy physical relations bother you, I would advise you to read that section with care.**

**Thank you**

**-Management (AKA, Shiva's Avatar)**

* * *

_Wuya couldn't feel it, but she knew the wind was blowing. Worse, it was a cold wind that ripped through the murky swamp and the girl frantically pulling herbs shuddered._

_Wuya was used to being immaterial, so to again be ghostly didn't bother her. Like before, the time for being incorporeal would soon pass. All of this was, in fact, a good sign. It meant that she was dreaming … and one could only dream when one had a body to sleep with._

"_My possession spell worked," the specter whispered._

"_Will it work?!" the girl in front of her all but sobbed._

_Wuya knew this place. Wuya knew this girl. Wuya knew how this story played out._

"_Of all my memories … why this one?" the ghost wondered aloud, knowing she could do nothing to stop the unfolding events. Slowly she approached the girl, trying to remember._

_She was dressed in tatters, course green fabric barely covering her body enough to escape indecency and far from heavy enough to shield her from the biting wind. Long red hair fell around her in a crazed wave, so unkempt that it obvious that the girl hadn't cared for it in a long, long time. Her arms, legs and torso were covered in scratches and scars; some dulled and years old, others frightening recent and still bleeding. Across her cheek three long scratches barely missed an emerald eye, looking as though they had just barely begun to scab._

"_Where is it?! If I can just find it … I can … I just … By the four dragons where is it?!" the girl hissed, digging her hands deeper into a tangled mesh of thorns. Blood slide down her fingers, coated her palms, but with a look of grim determination she pressed on._

_Wuya knew that voice. Knew that look. The look that conveyed determination and anger … but was really just a mask for desperation and fear. It was a true mark of an upper level apprentice at the Heylin Academy, as the academy beat out any traces of weakness in its students._

"_And you're cold, because you need to use most of your magic to keep the poison they fed you in check. You're hungry because you've been living off of scraps for weeks, months, years … you don't even remember the last time you ate until stated, do you? You're tired from all the work they've had you do. Cleaning the summoning chambers, mixing the potions, practicing the same spells over and over and over again," There was no feeling in Wuya's tone and the only emotion she showed at the scene being a slight grimace and a clenched fist. "Not to mention the paranoia when you could sleep. Because how many others meet their ends while they dreamt? All of them dying of natural causes of course … a dagger to the neck, a spear to the chest, a lightning bolt to the face. All perfectly natural given the environment of the academy. The professors never even looking for those who would kill their peers."_

"_Damnit!" the girl screamed, pulling her hand from the thorns. "There's none here either!"_

"_Kill or be killed, that is the Heylin way. Those who would fight for darkness were those that were the strongest … the ones most worthy of life," Wuya calmly continued._

" _Just a cirsium … by the earth dragon, just one. Then I'll have all the ingredients for the antidote," a few tears slipped from jade eyes that girl quickly attacked with a forearm._

"_Still just a child," Wuya whispered, drawing her intangible dress closer around her as the wind picked up its fury. Even though she could feel nothing, she still remembered what happened next._

_The sky growled and tiny drops of water started to slip through the dense foliage. _

"_Oh gods no," the girl whispered, dragging her hands through her hair._

"_You'll accomplish nothing sitting there," Wuya said, her voice, her eyes, all devoid of any emotion._

_Seconds slipped past._

"_I'll accomplish nothing just sitting here," the girl hissed, suddenly angry with herself. Slowly she forced herself to her feet and began a slow trudge forward, looking for another nest of thorns where her elusive flower might be hiding. Steadily the few drops of rain multiplied, the girl greeting the tempest with nothing but a tightening of lips and an internal prayer to the dragons of wind, water, and earth that she might soon find her quarry and return home._

"_How pitiful," Wuya whispered, seeing the signs that only a master witch could. The slight slump of the shoulders, a bodily reaction to hopelessness. Twitching fingers, that bespoke of helpless agitation. Bowed head and shimmering eyes that had nothing to do with rain, tell-tale signs of the worst emotion of them all, fear._

"_Bit hard on yourself, aren't you?" chirped a merry voice that cut through the dismal air like a ray of sunlight through gloom._

_Wuya turned around, her finger in place for numerous offensive incantations. This wasn't part of her memory._

_And there he stood. Grandmaster Dashi himself, just as ghostly as she was._

_XXXXXXXXXXX_

"Ah! Jack! Glad to see you could make our appointment,"

Jack hid a smile in response.

Dr. Raphael was always predictable, though that might just be one of his charms. From the glint in the psychologist's pale blue eyes though, he knew his newly acquired broken arm would soon 'subtly' enter their conversation.

Deciding to forestall the inevitable, Jack shrugged and pretended to take an interest in the beige walls. Dr. Raphael chuckled, tossed his long blond hair out of his face, and rested his chin in a hand.

Above the door the large twelve dollar clock ticked away the seconds, fast turning into minutes. Jack pretended to intently study one of several degrees hanging on the wall, subtly straining to read his therapist.

More seconds clicked away into minutes. Finally with a sigh and a rub of his temple, Dr Raphael spoke.

"Jack, please come and sit down. If you really didn't want to talk, you wouldn't have come. So just tell me what happened,"

Turning his head, Jack caught another pointed look at his cast. Biting a lip, the genius guilty blushed and walked across the room, taking a seat on the smaller of two pale green couches that ate up most of the small office.

"Here," Dr. Raphael said, offering Jack a pudding cup and a spoon, before settling on the couch across from him. A shy smile crept onto Jack's face as he stared at the floor, beginning to devour the treat he knew the therapist kept for him alone.

The clock diligently clicked away more minutes.

"So …?" Dr. Raphael asked, seeming unruffled by Jack's silence.

"So," Jack repeated back, putting the empty pudding container on the couch next to him and twirling the spoon around his agile fingers.

Dr. Raphael laughed.

"So, obviously you didn't just 'fall' like you told Grace," the therapist prompted, lowering his head and trying to throw Jack an encouraging smile.

"I did fall," Jack mumbled.

"Oh?" asked Dr. Raphael.

Trying to sneak a glance up, Jack got his eyes caught by the therapist's.

"Yeah," Jack said, shifting his head to look at the door.

"And how did you fall?" the doctor probed.

"I just did." Jack hissed caustically.

Flame colored eyes watched as the clock tick-tick-ticked away more seconds into minutes, feeling all too keenly the heavy silence in the room.

"It's a long story," Jack muttered, then sighed, and then watched the clock click away more seconds.

The teenager felt his lower incisor again caress the inside of his bottom lip. Why wouldn't he just drop it already? Sixty-three words in forty minutes … this had to be nightmarish for him too.

"Was it … " for a second Dr Raphael hesitated, which was enough to draw Jack's eyes back to him. "Was it Raimundo who hurt you?"

Ruby eyes flashed and Jack's entire face took on an ugly red sheen.

"Fuck no! Raimundo was never hurt me! I fucking told you before! We're friends!"

Dr. Raphael fiddled with his pen for a moment, then wrote something on his nearby notepad.

"Was it an accident? During your shen gong wu game?" the therapist asked mildly, tilting his head.

"NO! I told you before! It wasn't Rai!" Jack hissed.

"Rai?" Dr Raphael asked, hefting an eyebrow.

"I mean Raimundo!" Jack yelled, feeling his blush.

Dr. Raphael jotted something else on his notepad.

"He … you see … he just … he let's his friends call him that. Rai." Jack chocked out, staring at the floor in mute humiliation. Dr. Raphael was too smart. He'd given away too much and now his biggest secret was going to come out. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid …

Dr. Raphael traced his lips with the back of his pen.

"So, if Rai didn't break your arm, who did?" the therapist asked lightly.

"Kimiko … kinda. But really it was mostly me," Jack whispered, closing his eyes to stop the threatening tears.

"How so?" asked the doctor kindly.

"We were going after a new Shen gong wu. Mushi's chain or something … it was really lame. When you use it, it points towards metal … which I guess might have been cool centuries ago but really isn't all that great compared to today's standards…" Jack said, ready to launch into a rant about how much more sense today's technology made when compared against the Xiaolin's magical toys.

A hefted eyebrow and a meaningful look from Dr. Raphael preemptively stopped said rant.

"It was a foot race on some mountain path. I should have used the golden tiger claws … but I forgot them at home, so I had to use the shroud of shadows instead. And Kimiko was using the third arm sash … and we were racing, and racing, and I used the shroud of shadows to turn invisible and I tripped her, ya know? Because she's faster then me and I didn't want to lose … not to a girl … again," Jack said, his tempo steadily increasing.

Dr. Raphael said nothing, but nodded for him to continue.

"So, yeah … I try … tried to trip her. And then I was running, and running, and I almost hit the finish line when she used the third arm sash and pulled me back. She just, you know, pulled me a little too hard and I tripped and almost feel off the cliff. So, I … I threw my weight the other way, because if I feel off, I'd lose, you know? And then … and then I just tripped. Feel down. Landed the wrong way. It was completely an accident. Completely my fault I broke my arm, you know?"

"I see," Dr. Raphael said, scribbling another note down. Jack felt his stomach churn, and looked at the clock. Three minutes left.

"Three minutes left," he muttered softly.

Dr. Raphael jotted something else down and nodded.

"Alright then Jack, just one more question …"

And Jack winced and waited for it. 'How could you lose to a girl?', 'Do you ever win this game?', 'How can you be so clumsy and pathetic all of the time?'…

" … loved him?" asked the doctor.

"What?!" Jack asked, his voice reaching screech level, as he must have heard that last part wrong.

"Raimundo, Jack. How long have you been in love with Raimundo?" Dr. Raphael asked in a completely neutral tone. Jack felt every muscle freeze; felt his blood temperature plummet until ice had to be pumping through his veins.

He coughed twice before he could choke out words, staring at beige carpeting. "I … heh … yeah … yeah … right … I don … I don't love Rai … Raimundo,"

The clock continued its duty diligently, ticking away seconds, Jack feeling his therapist's stare.

"Much," he confessed in a whisper, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"It's always him," the doctor said softly, kindly. Jack looked up, feeling tears lurking at the corners of his eyes.

"He teased you again, didn't he? Said you were going to lose to a girl? That's why you tried so hard, wasn't it?" the therapist continued. Jack hiccupped and nodded.

"Why him?" Dr. Raphael asked.

Jack's lips froze, unable to vocalize why it had been Raimundo. Some reasons were obvious … such as the fact that the Brazilian was so hot you could practically roast marshmallows off of him. To simpler reasons … like the way he'd throw encouragement to everyone around him, even if it was somewhat disguised. Like during this last showdown … Sure Raimundo had been cheering for Kimiko, but all of the taunts had been aimed at him … pushing both of them to throw themselves completely into the game.

'Come on Spicer! You ganna get beat by a girl?"

The way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way he never excluded anyone. Ever. Everyone was a participant to his taunts and tricks.

'What's a'matter Jack? One too many pudding cups?'

The way he looked like when he won. Jack could lose a thousand shen gong wu if he got to lose them to Raimundo. It was like getting a front row seat to watch those emerald eyes of his shine. Hearing him holler and roar as he tossed his hair and reveled in his victory. The way he'd help Jack up (because Jack couldn't remember a shen gong wu battle where he hadn't been hurled to the ground at some point), and say 'better luck next time', his smirk promising another loss, but one well worth the game …

'Jackie vs Kimiko! This is ganna be a close one guys! Battle of the girls!'

"I … he … because …" Jack tried to force out.

Because he was everything I could ever want to be …

"Ah … our time's up. Shall we start there next time Jack?" Dr. Raphael asked, jotting one last note and standing. Deciding to slow their process some rather then risk Jack regressing. Dumbly Jack nodded and allowed himself to be escorted to the door.

"And no Jack. There's nothing wrong with you. Statistics say that at least one in a hundred … some studies report as high as five in a hundred … a few even suggest ten in a hundred people are homosexual." Dr. Raphael said kindly, mussing Jack's hair with a hand.

'He touched me … he knows I'm a queer … and he touched me …' Jack thought, turning mesmerized eyes on his therapist. So many years of quiet rejections, strained silence, of forced secrets … and … 'he still touched me'.

"I … bu … mom said …" Jack said, trying to rob himself of this moment. He didn't deserve respect, didn't deserve understanding. This was just the final nail in the coffin … uncontestable proof that he was fucked up and defective …

Dr. Raphael leaned down and pressed a finger to Jack's lips, shaking his head 'no'.

"And as I've said before. Your mother is very sick Jack. You're fine. You're a lot stronger then you think you are,"

And then Dr. Raphael gave him a dazzling smile, mussed his hair again, and walked him to the exit. Jack couldn't help but wish he was his dad.

"Now, I'll see you again in two weeks Jack?" the doctor asked in a no nonsense tone. Jack felt himself nod in the affirmative.

"Good. Now be good and take care of that arm! Try your best in your shen gong wu game … but not to the point where you hurt yourself!" Dr. Raphael chided. He patted Jack's head one final time, nodded once, then turned and returned to his office. Jack took a shaky step forward, watched the automatic doors part, and watched as lightning flashed across the sky.

But it didn't matter if it was raining. It didn't matter if his mom was still sick. It didn't matter if his dad was off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what.

For a brief second nothing mattered. Because for a brief second …

For a brief moment.

There wasn't anymore secrets.

There wasn't anymore lies.

And he wasn't … God, he WASN'T … defective.

Stepping out into the summer shower, feeling the rain soak his hair and trench coat, Jack just stood there, feeling tears leak out of his eyes.

'And someday … someday. I'm going to tell Raimundo how I feel …" Jack silently promised himself …

…because maybe Raimundo was one in a hundred. Five in a hundred. Ten in a hundred.

… Or maybe Raimundo just wouldn't care. He'd laugh and say they could be friends anyway … because …

…because Jack really wasn't defective.

_XXXXXXXXXXX_

_Wuya was surprised how many emotions the bald monk's smiling face conjured. Rage. Anger. Sorrow. Hatred. Kindness. Fury. Pain._

"_Bit hard on yourself, aren't you?" the monk asked again, tossing Wuya a smug grin._

"_What are you doing here?" Wuya hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Her hands still poised for a slew of deadly incantations._

"_Same as you, just floating around," the monk said with a laugh, arms held out to show he had no intention to start a fight._

_Nearby the girl had found another nest of thorns and shoved her already shredded hands into their mist, to continue her hunt for the final component to her antidote._

_Wuya remembered. She hated this memory the most. She'd been too young, the lessons of the academy had not yet been strongly enough tattooed into her soul._

_She'd only been sixteen._

_So she'd been a fool. Done then, what she never would have done now. Perhaps doing so had saved her life … but it had cost her all her pride._

"_Hey? What the heck are you doing lady?" A voice cut through the storm._

_The girl's eyes widened and she withdrew her tattered hands from the thorns. Quickly she tried to focus, desperately trying to pin-point where that voice was coming from, feverishly hoping she had enough left in her for an enchantment strong enough to kill whatever further danger the four great dragons had thought to throw her way._

"_This is your favorite part of the story … isn't it? Hero?" Wuya sneered at the ghostly Dashi. _

"_Yeah, it is" he whispered in reply, his voice so soft Wuya was left unsure if he'd actually mouthed the words, or if the wind itself had spoken for him._

_A teenage boy appeared, the flesh and blood version of the ghost standing beside Wuya, holding his arms outstretched to show they held no weapons. The girl's eyes narrowed as she took in his robes, testament to his alliance with the Xiaolin, sworn enemy to all Heylin. With a few quick gestures and a lightning quick incantation, the girl threw a ball of green fire at her enemy. The energy ball tore through trees and foliage, and the girl smirked, knowing there was no way her enemy could have possibly evaded her attack._

_Her spell hadn't come without a cost though. Expending more magical energy had weakened the precise enchantments she had wove to keep the poison in check. She felt it slip out of its magical prison and into her blood, burning her from the inside out. The girl screamed; as she burned from the inside and froze on the outside. If only she could find the flower! There was still a chance if she found it soon …_

_She took a weak step forward, and felt herself falling. Part of her dreaded the impact with the ground, sure it would only cause more pain … the other part hoped she blacked out from the fall. Slipped into an easy sleep from which she never had to awaken …_

"_It must have hurt," Dashi said sympathetically._

"_Ha. If I'd known what lessons I was to face later, I would have counted myself lucky to have been given such an easy assignment," Wuya hissed in reply. _

_The girl fell, the world seeming to slide into slow motion. The trees began to blur, she began to see the rain in individual drops, the whole world seeming to spin faster and faster while the ground came at her at a snails pace. She closed her eyes and then …_

… _and then he caught her. _

_Her eyes widened as she felt living arms wrap around her instead of the hard caress of stone. Her eyes whipping open, she struggled feebly when she saw she was suffocating in her enemies red robes. Desperately she tried to remember some enchantment, some incantation that would punish him for his insolence and mockery … would kill him, so she at least died with the contentment she hadn't died alone._

"_Hey! Hey now! Come on Lady! No need to act like that!" the boy said with a laugh, his laughter infuriating the girl who struggled twice as hard against his iron grip._

"_You always were a firecracker Wuya. Touch you once and you blew up into all kinds of angry sparks," Dashi said softly, something wistful in his eyes as he watched the scene unfold._

"_You're lucky I was so weak, or you would have been the one all 'blown up'," Wuya sneered back, likewise unable to tear her eyes away from the unfolding drama._

"_Come on. Come on. Just calm down … jeez! You're really uppity for someone who needs help!" the boy said, pushing the girl back enough that she could see his friendly grin. For a moment she stopped struggling, her eyes softening … and then …_

"_Arcra cara shu!" A thin finger traced a magical glyph, and the boy was thrown back as electricity surged through his body. The girl fell to the ground, the impact jarring her burning blood and intensifying her agony._

"_Just do it Xiaolin fool! Just kill me! Quit your mockery and just do it! Kill me!" she screamed, struggling to rise, desperate to cast one last spell so that she could at least kill her enemy._

_Nearby the boy stood and frowned, still feeling the tingle of her lightning touch._

"_That spell really hurt," Dashi admitted with a soft smile._

"_It should have killed you. A normal man's heart would have stopped," Wuya replied coolly._

"_Lucky me that I was dragon of air, huh?" Dashi fired back, turning his head away from the scene to stare at his rival._

"_Yes … lucky you," Wuya said softly, unable to look away._

"_Geez! You act like that every time a guy tries to help you, and you're going to die alone as an old hag!" the boy said, smiling again. Glaring daggers, the girl tried to steady her herself, tried force her fingers to trace out the necessary runes for another spell. But she was too weak, and fell once again to the ground._

"_What's the matter with you anyway? Heylin witches are supposed to be brutal, and it looks like you can't even stand …" he asked, leaning down, and gently lifting her up._

"_What's it matter?! Just do your duty. Just kill me Xiaolin barbarian!" the girl screamed, rearing up to stare him straight in the face. His kind look surprised her._

"_Seriously," the light tone disappeared from the boy's voice, his black eyes holding their own against her olive spheres "tell me what's wrong. Can't you see I'm just trying to help you?"_

_The girl tried to fire back a caustic reply, but vomited blood instead. She could do it … could cast one last spell and kill him, she knew she could. But it felt nice to be held. Felt nice to feel something other then anger. So rather then cast, she swallowed her words. Everything burned. Everything blurred. And she felt herself lose consciousness in her enemy's arms._

_If she had died then, she would have died happy. _

_The boy stood there for a moment, just holding her. Then sighed and smiled._

"_Well," the boy said with a smirk. "That was attractive,"_

_XXXXXXXXXXX_

"Come on Raimundo! If you don't move it, it's going to rain before we get a chance to play!" Jason whined, giving his friend a motivational punch in the shoulder. Raimundo said nothing, just threw his friend his trademark smirk, finished trying his sneakers, stretched, and grabbed the nearby soccer ball.

The two had become best friends almost instantly since Jason had arrived in Rio. Jason's family had arrived from America a little over a year ago, arriving two days after Raimundo's fourteenth birthday. Raimundo had later joked that Jason was his favorite birthday present, seeing as the other boy was just as obsessed with soccer as he was and had at least a passing knowledge of what Capoeira was. In a heartbeat Raimundo had suddenly found himself a skilled rival in his favorite sport and a friend who shared an interest in his more obscure martial arts form.

At first language had proven problematic, as both boys knew only scraps of the others tongue. But they quickly worked out series of gestures and learned key words so that they could communicate important phrases (almost all of which were soccer related). Now, a year later, Raimundo was pretty much fluent in his best friend's language, and Jason was fast approaching mastery of the Portuguese tongue.

"Are you ready, now?!" Jason asked, awkwardly shoving some of his messy black hair out his eyes.

"Are you ready, now?" Raimundo mimicked back, standing and bouncing the ball off his knee.

"Asshole," Jason muttered, trying to grab the ball from his friend. Smirking, Raimundo let the ball drop to the ground and gave it a sharp kick, and immediately ran after it.

"Last one to the field is a rotten egg," Raimundo called over his shoulder.

"Jerk!" Jason yelled back, setting off after his friend.

Hitting the field the two immediately began a soccer game, Raimundo taking a savage delight in slipping his martial arts skills into his kicks whenever able. Not to be beaten that easily though, Jason stepped up his game, sending the ball flying from foot to knee to head to knee to foot … to goal.

A half hour later, the score was tied at one-one.

"Next goal wins it?" Jason called out, as the drizzle of rain that had started earlier began to pick up.

"Sure," Raimundo called back, lunging for the ball and sending it flying with a hard kick. Jason, not to be left out, blocked the ball with his chest and after side-stepping a charging Raimundo, kicked the ball towards his friend's goal.

Back flipping back, Raimundo used his foot to toss the ball into the air. Then, after tossing his friend a smirk, he sent the ball dancing, from foot to knee to head to knee to foot … to goal.

"Bastard!" Jason yelled, his smile ruining any facade of anger. "You stole my move! Bitch!"

"Hey! Your fault for being too slow," Raimundo smirked back, jogging over to pick up his ball.

The rain progressed from shower to storm, jagged lightning ripping through the sky overhead.

"My house or yours?" Jason asked, trying to slip some emphasis on 'my'.

"Mine's closer, dude," Raimundo called, nodding back towards the way they had come.

"Yeah, that works," Jason muttered.

"Race ya there?" Raimundo asked, emerald eyes shinning at the prospect of a challenge. Jason tilted his head, as though considering the proposition, then suddenly charged full speed in the direction of Raimundo's home. Raimundo stood for a second in shock, then grinning, took after his friend.

"Cheater," Raimundo puffed when they reached his porch, peeling off his t-shirt.

"You're just mad because you're still a weak runner," Jason grinned, slightly less winded then his friend. Pointedly adverting his eyes from the other boy's muscular build.

"Pfft. Whatever. There isn't a guy here who can beat me in a fair footrace," Raimundo stated proudly, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks. "Mom just mass cleaned the house dude. So lose anything muddy or that's ganna drip,"

Raimundo was already twirling the knob and entering the house, so he missed his best friend's cheeks flush to an uncomfortable red. For a moment Jason just fisted his hands and considered going home …

"You coming in or what?" Raimundo asked a few minutes later, twisting the door open and leaning against the door jamb, bottle of water in hand.

"I … uh … should … um … really … ya know? … head back home … and stuff," Jason mumbled, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. Raimundo tilted his head and looked confused.

"Why?" the Brazilian asked bluntly.

"I just have … stuff … to do," Jason said, staring down.

An uncomfortable moment passed.

"Dude. You can borrow a pair of my pants if your ganna be that bitchy about being wet," Raimundo said, tossing his friend a grin, thinking he'd figured out the source of the other boy's discomfort.

"Huh?" Jason responded warily. Raimundo sauntered out the door and roughly tugged one of Jason's belt loops. Jason felt his blush brighten slightly, but more keenly felt all his blood slip into the lower section of his anatomy.

"Jeans. We wear the same size remember? I'll lend you a pair. So, you won't be wet, you can stay over, and I can kick your butt at super smash bros," Raimundo said, grinning. Jason looked at his best friend, sapphire eyes locking with emerald irises.

'No,' Jason thought mentally. 'Mom needs me. I have to baby-sit Ryan. Me and dad were going to tackle cleaning the basement. Sorry Rai … but I can't stay'

"Sounds great," Jason heard himself say.

'Fuck' he cursed his mutinous mouth.

"Cool, meet you in my room then," Raimundo said, flashing another grin and disappearing inside.

Knowing this had to be one of the stupidest things he'd ever done, Jason sighed, pulled off his soaked t-shirt, kicked off his sneakers and socks, and slowly made his way inside. Twisting through the Pedrosa's home, Jason noticed the house was eerily quiet for a family of eleven.

"Why's everything so quiet?" he called, stealing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Dunno. Guess everyone went out … lucky us, huh?" Raimundo called back. "Means we won't have to share with Maureo and Mauricio,"

Jason cringed. Wonderful. Not only was he half-naked with his best friend/crush, he was alone with him too. This thought line was compounded tenfold when he walked to Raimundo's room, and saw his friend crawling on all fours through his pigsty of a room, clad only in a pair of plaid blue boxers. He watched as Raimundo shifted several pairs of shirts and boxers to uncover a pair of jeans; watched him sniff them, wince, and toss them back onto the floor.

"Hey," Raimundo said with an embarrassed chuckle, looking up from the floor when he noticed Jason standing in his doorway. "I'm having a little trouble finding clean pants … guess I haven't done laundry in a while,"

Jason felt his heart pound until he thought it would explode. Raimundo needed to stop, someone needed to come home. Jason tried to control his breathing and keep his thoughts platonic, unsure of how much longer his self-control could last.

Raimundo dug around the floor a little while longer, then frowning, shrugged his shoulders and gave up.

"Jas, I've got nothing. Sorry. You wanna just lose your pants and I'll throw them in the dryer? They shouldn't take that long to dry. It's just us, so there's nothing to be embarrassed about,"

Jason was sure there was a lot to be embarrassed about. He willed himself to say 'no'. Willed himself to say he had to leave.

"Yeah, that sounds fine" his treacherous body replied.

A moment passed.

"So, um … you going to give them to me or what?" Raimundo asked confused.

"Yeah … right … pants," Jason muttered, fiddling with the button while he felt blood fill his face. Seconds later he was handing soaked jeans to Raimundo.

"Jeez. Took you long enough. You're such a friggin' girl," Raimundo said, rolling his eyes and disappearing out the door and down the hallway.

Jason was tempted to fire some witty comment back, but his voice froze as all he could do was stare at his best friends boxer clad ass as it meandered down the hallway. Rubbing his palms on his own black underwear, Jason couldn't help but compare his present circumstances to a bad porno.

Mentally he kicked himself. If he started to think about porn, he was going to starting thinking of Raimundo. If he started thinking of Raimundo …

… well, without pants, there wouldn't really be much hiding the fact that he was thinking of Raimundo.

Sitting on Raimundo's bed, Jason closed his eyes and tried to think unsexy thoughts. His grandmother in lingerie. His Uncle Sammy with a beer gut and double chin singing country in his tightly whities.

"And now for today's local weather …" a monotone voice attempting cheer began. Opening his eyes Jason watched as Raimundo plugged his gamecube into the nearby television, hit a few buttons in quick succession that silenced the local weather and brought up the loading screen for their game.

"Dibs on Link!" Raimundo called, tossing a black controller at Jason and sitting down on the bed next to him.

"Whatever," Jason replied, trying not to stare.

A feat that became harder and harder as time went on.

"Dude! Are you even trying?!" Raimundo asked, glaring. "I just owned you as Jigglypuff. JIGGLYPUFF!"

"It's nothing," Jason fired back, pointedly refusing to look away from the screen. "Not everyone spends all their time playing this stupid game,"

"What?" Raimundo asked, eyes narrowing, thinking he'd just been insulted.

"It's just that some of us think about more then soccer, martial arts, and video games all the time!" Jason hissed.

"Dude. Why are you being so pissy with me?" Raimundo growled, starting to get angry.

"It's nothing. Just let it drop already," Jason said with a sigh, idly tapping buttons on his controller.

"Come on. We're friends. If something's bothering you, talk about it," Raimundo said, willing away his anger and giving Jason a friendly punch in the shoulder.

"It's noth …" Jason began, but stopped when Raimundo suddenly stood, clenched his hands on Jason's shoulders, and shoved his face so close to Jason's that it blurred a little.

"It's bugging you, ain't it? So it's got to be something. Alright?" Raimundo said, flashing his signature grin. "You'd do the same for me,"

And he was to close. To close physically. To close emotionally. Jason couldn't help it … didn't even realize what he did until it was too late.

Raimundo's eyes widened. His nails dug tiny crescent moons into his friend's shoulder blades. Without even thinking about it Raimundo jerked his head back, desperate to get away, desperate to pretend it never happened …

… because he just couldn't process his best friend kissing him.

Raimundo tried to pull away, only to have Jason's hands suddenly wrap around his wrists and tug him forward. His martial arts training was the only thing that kept him from falling straight into his friend's lap. It took all of his control not to break his friend's hold and punch him in the face … Raimundo couldn't think from all the emotions raging inside him.

Part of him wanted to hit Jason until the other boy was spitting blood and teeth. Another part wanted those lips back on his own, wanted those hands to hold onto his. Raimundo had never loved and hated a person so much all at the same time. Hadn't even thought it possible to feel so much that you couldn't even pick an emotion to act with.

"Wait … just wait … " Jason's voice was heavy, husky … dimly Raimundo wondered why he'd never noticed that before. "Let me just … explain. Ok?"

They both knew Raimundo was stronger. In the truest sense Raimundo was the deciding vote of how long this conversation lasted. Jason had tried all sorts of holds on his friend over the year they'd play wrestled … and had never been able to hold one for more then a minute. With a twist of his wrists Raimundo could leave. With one punch Raimundo could make sure Jason couldn't come after him. Facts both of them were all to keenly aware of.

"I just … its … you … see …" Raimundo couldn't look Jason in the face, so just watched the other boy's chest heave as he fumbled for words.

"It's just that I like you," Jason managed to choke out.

"Like me?" Raimundo asked hollowly, trying to keep control, trying to understand. Trying to make the butterflies in his stomach stop their sudden mass migration.

"You know. Like you … like … like a girl," Jason whimpered.

Immediately he regretted his choice in words as Raimundo's eyes flashed and his lips curled into an angry snarl. Jason's hands were suddenly holding air as Raimundo twisted free and stomped out of the room.

"Rai … God Rai … Rai … Rai just fucking listen to me!" Jason yelled, running after the other boy. Raimundo wasn't stopping though, and was heading for the door. Knowing he needed to try something desperate, Jason charged, tacking his Brazilian pal with all his strength. Both boys flew across the room, a mixture of flailing limbs, before slamming down onto the hardwood floors.

Jason moved quicker then a stunned Raimundo and pinned the other boy's wrists against the floor, settling his knees on the other boy's legs. He didn't really think for a second he could really keep his friend held, but right now he'd try anything to buy himself more time to fix this.

"Look … Rai. I'm not … not real good with words," Jason chocked out, forcing Raimundo to meet eyes. "I just … just …"

"What?! Want to fuck me like a girl?!" Raimundo yelled back, twisting his arms and arching his back. Jason barely kept his hold and knew if Raimundo buckled like that again he was in for a world of hurt.

"NO!" he screamed into the other boy's face, stunning Raimundo.

"No," Jason repeated again, softer, letting his head fall until his forehead rested against Raimundo's.

"I just … I just …" Jason closed his eyes and swallowed. "I just think I'm in love with my best friend,"

Not knowing what else to say Jason just lowered his head, opened his eyes, and slowly touched his lips to Raimundo's. A whisper of a touch, so soft they might not even have been there … but Raimundo felt them all too clearly. Knew they were begging permission for something their owner couldn't ask for in words.

And the butterflies in Raimundo's stomach went into overdrive. He'd always dreamed about kissing girls, touching girls. And even now he knew he still liked them … but this felt right too. Dimly his subconscious wondered if gender even mattered, wondered if people just feel in love with people.

Raimundo forced the butterflies down and pushed his head up, strengthening their connection of lips. Which brought a grin to Jason at the same time it awoke something primal in him. His lips smashed against Raimundo's in a sloppy embrace … his utter lack of finesse somewhat countered by the sheer amount of passion he applied. For a few minutes they fought for dominance with their mouths, tongues dancing out to join the fray.

Moments past and the boys enjoyed the messy euphoria of first love. Then Jason moved his head, applying pressure oral pressure against Raimundo's neck. Tiny hesitant love bites and awkward sucking ensued … and despite the complete absurdity of it, Raimundo could help but enjoy the sensations.

Jason knew he was already pushing his luck, but slowly he released Raimundo's right wrist and used his free hand to trace down Raimundo's arm. Moving his hand he touched everything he once thought forbidden fruit, caressing Raimundo's shoulders with a callused palm, fingertips sliding over a pointed tan nipple, groping abs and rubbing a flat stomach.

Raimundo's free hand curled as all he could do mew, Jason's mouth continuing its assault his neck, sometimes moving to nudge Raimundo's face with a cheek, so that both sides of his neck received equal attention. It all seemed so awkward … but it all felt so good.

Then Raimundo's entire body flinched and all sensation seemed to stop. Guilty Jason rubbed his thumb again under Raimundo's boxer's waistline, angling his face to give Raimundo a shy grin.

"Moving … too … fast?" Raimundo gasped/asked, suddenly noticing that somewhere during their make-out session Jason's knees had slipped to the floor and he felt the other boy's pride and joy rubbing against his leg.

"Do you … do you want me to stop?" Jason asked softly, his eyes pleading. As if to enhance his puppy eyes, he gave Raimundo's lower lip a gentle nip.

Raimundo felt his lips move, but couldn't seem to find the air to produce words. Something instinctive seemed to be taking him over … something primal and hungry all at the same time. Slowly he felt himself shake his head 'no'.

Jason's smile could have outshone the sun as his hand reached the final frontier. He closed his eyes as he used his fingers to trace the outline of the other boy's cock. Brushing his hand down the shaft to cradle the Brazilian's heavy balls.

"Jeez Rai … do you have to beat me at EVERYTHING?" Jason asked with a grin and a meaningful look down. Raimundo felt the light blush he'd been developing deepen, unable to make his brain formulate a response to that.

Any coherent thought he might have had was immediately pushed back as Jason's hand encircled his shaft and slowly began to rise and fall. Raimundo gasped and whimpered … it was the same game he'd played himself a thousand times before, only suddenly ten times more intense now that someone else was playing with the controller.

"Rai … I … I …" Jason whispered into his ear, his hand continuing its ministrations. "I lov …"

"Raimundo! We're back!" floated a female's sea-song voice from the doorway, paralyzing both boys. Conversation stopped. Movement stopped. For what seemed like an agonizingly eternity, even breathing stopped, as both boys silently prayed to any deity that might be watching that that voice wasn't real.

"Raimundo! We just came to pick up the cake your mother made. We're at your uncle Tiago's … and everyone's asking where you ar …" Raimundo's father, Nuno, lectured … his voice dying mid-speech as he and his wife Priscilia walked into the living room.

Almost as if the scene were a television show, time stopped, as if awaiting an audience's response. Long seconds past where the adults seemed stricken with the same disease as the adolescents, standing them in a state of complete paralysis. As if waiting for some invisible viewers to gasp, laugh, or intervene.

"Ummm … hi Mr. Pedrosa," Jason forced out weakly, after the awkward silence became to much for him, giving the older man an embarrassed smile.

And just like that time resumed, jumping into fast forward as if to make up for all the time it'd been held.

Priscilia screamed, manicured nails grabbing the cloth above her heart. Nuno charged, his short barrel-like frame moving with the speed of a charging bull. His face an ugly hue of red tinged with blue, as he grabbed Jason's mop of black hair with thick sausage like fingers. For a second Jason desperately tightened his grip on Raimundo's manhood, which drew out a pained whimper from the Brazilian. Growling, Nuno twisted his wrist and heaved with all his strength, savagely pulling Jason off his son, before pummeling Jason's face with a ring clad fist.

Everything happened too fast for Raimundo to process. His father's fist slammed against Jason's face over and over again, Jason desperately trying, and failing, to move his arms to try and block the blows. His mother's screams seemed to become one long deafening note; a loud wailing screech that prevented any rational thought. Part of his brain screamed for him to move, to do something, anything … but all Raimundo could do was sit frozen and watch.

Watched as that fist slammed again and again into Jason's face. Watched as golden rings became tinged with a thin coat of blood. Jason's blue eyes suddenly banished behind fast forming purple lids, a thin trail of red oozing from his mouth.

"Stop it! Stop it! You'll kill him! You'll kill him," dimly Raimundo noted that the words he should be saying were coming out of his mother's mouth, as she grabbed a hold of his father's arm and tried to hold back his fury. "He isn't worth it! He isn't worth it!"

Raimundo watched as his father threw Jason's head against the ground. Growled and cursed the 'stupid little fairy fag', before turning his hard green eyes on his son.

"Why the fuck did you let him do that to you?" his father growled, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Raimundo felt his tongue seared to the bottom of him mouth and could do nothing but stare at his blood spattered parent.

For some reason admitting that he'd enjoyed 'it' just seemed to be a terrible idea.

Fingers roughly grabbed Raimundo's chin and he could smell the feijoada on his father's breath. "Are you like him? You a fucking fag too?"

"Or course not!" Priscilia hissed, her eyes narrowed. "How could you even think that about your son! That boy … that thing, is obviously to blame here!"

"Say it then! Say you're not a faggot!" Nuno roared, vice-like fingers crushing Raimundo's face. The butterflies had all simultaneously combusted and Raimundo couldn't feel anything but empty ash inside of him.

"Say it! Say it!" Nuno commanded. Nearby Jason gurgled and struggled to breath.

"Na … not … not a … faggot," Raimundo somehow managed to force out through clenched teeth. Unsure of the validity of the statement.

His father's eyes narrowed, cold eyes warning Raimundo that his statement was hardly believed. But he released his son from his fingers though, settling to glare holes into eyes mirrors to his own. Raimundo heard his mother in the background, whispering something into the telephone.

"An ambulance is on its way," she said a moment later, purposely moving to cut off eye contact between father and son. "Raimundo honey. Go get dressed. Don't worry now … everything's going to be okay …"

And eventually … months later … everything seemed to be back to normal.

Nuno and Priscilia stopped treating him like he was some warped monstrosity and slowly, slowly, began to reaccept him into the family fold.

The rumors that traveled the length of Rio seemed to slowly subside, and Raimundo no longer found himself a complete social outcast among his peers.

Raimundo managed to stop having nightly nightmares about watching his father nearly beat his best friend to death.

Granted, this 'normal' meant that he never saw Jason again, as Jason's family suddenly decided it was an ideal time to return to America, failing to leave any forwarding address.

This 'normal' had Raimundo guiltily watching pretty boys walk down the beach the same way he stared when pretty girls past by him.

This 'normal' had him having dream sex with his former best friend every night he wasn't having nightmares about his father beating the shit out of him.

This 'normal' just meant smiling a lot more, even when he just wanted to break down and cry … because he couldn't shame his family again. He couldn't further embarrass them by admitting he might be different …

... so he just suppressed the entire event. It was simple experimentation. Unfulfilling experimentation. Wrong experimentation.

Jason had made him do it. Tricked him into thinking that any relationship with two boys could ever be ok.

And though he to say it hundreds of times before he began to believe it …

… he hadn't been in love with Jason.

… had never loved Jason.

…

… he didn't love Jason.

…

Because it was wrong …

… right?

_XXXXXXXXXXX_

_The boy ran his fingers gently through the girl's long red hair. His Xiaolin duty was clear; he should have long since battled and killed the Heylin witch. But something inside the boy stopped him. The boy felt his very soul recoil at the idea of hurting some so obviously in need of aid._

"_I wondered … " Dashi whispered to his spectral peer, "if maybe all the Heylin witches weren't evil. If maybe some of them were just trapped. Forced to study dark magics under penalty of torture and death if they refused. I wondered if maybe you were different … that maybe if I tried hard enough, I could save you,"_

"_How foolish. One would have thought your masters would have taught you better," Wuya sighed, fingers twisting around her dress._

"_You were so beautiful And. even considering the spells you threw at me … so helpless," Dashi's voice gave for a moment. "You were the first person who ever really seemed to need me. Sure I'd helped peasants plant crops, found lost children, and fought back the local wildlife … but you seemed the first person who ever really needed ME,"_

_Wuya turned from the teenagers to her ghostly companion._

"_And I … and that's … that's the moment I fell in love with you," Dashi confessed, his voice so faded that Wuya was again uncertain if he or his element spoke._

_Wuya again felt a slew of emotions surge through her spectral frame, and decided to follow the most logical of them. She laughed._

_Dashi's soft expression remained though and soon Wuya's laugh sounded forced._

"_What new game is this monk?" Wuya suddenly sneered, all pretense at mirth dying._

"_No game. The only game I ever played …" Dashi said, gesturing to the past versions of themselves. "was to try and save you from darkness,"_

Fearing some trick Wuya refused to take her eyes of her old foe, mentally replaying his every word over and over.

"_Phoenix Feather!" the young man murmured and Wuya felt the magic ooze from the Xiaolin artifact behind her._

_Slowly she turned, her fingers digging into her palms._

_The boy quickly tucked the ornate feather into a hidden robe pocket and watched with baited breath as its magic flowed through the wounded girl. Scars disappeared, bruises vanished, and scratches faded into nonexistence. Her heavy breathing become more regulated as the healing magic scoured poison from her blood and restored her to perfect health._

_Her eyes fluttered and the boy couldn't hide his smile._

"_By the great dragons …" the girl whispered groggily, leaning heavily on the monk._

"_See what happens when you let someone help you?" the boy responded teasingly, giving her a grin that would have outshone the sun had it been shining._

"_What? What happened?!" the girl shrieked, trying to push the monk away from her. _

"_I told you," the boy chided "I helped you,"_

"You? You helped me?" the girl asked.

"_Yup!" the boy replied, shooting her another smile._

"_Why?" the girl asked, a hand suddenly shooting to her chest and clutching her rags. "What do you want as repayment?!"_

"_Nothing!" the boy sighed. "Can you really not believe I helped you just because you needed help?"_

_Her narrowed eyes and taunt lips answered his question. _

"_Jeez. Fine. How about this then? I'll go grab us some food, because you look like you're starving. We'll have dinner and I'll repeat it as many times as you need to hear it to believe it. That I just wanted to help you," the monk said with a grin. Slowly the girl nodded her accent and the boy helped lean her against a nearby tree._

_Flashing her a final smile, the boy turned and ran into the maelstrom. The girl waited a few seconds before pulling a hidden amulet from her upper thigh, leery of a trick on the monk's part. So long as he was touching her, this amulet wouldn't work to return her the academy. No doubt he'd left just to circle back and see where she kept it, to prevent her from escaping him later._

_Clutching the amulet in hand the girl hesitated before saying the trigger word. She had been dying … the monk could have easily killed her, raped her, or captured her. Yet he'd healed her. Left her alone while he 'went to get food'. Part of the girl wanted to wait and see what he planned, wanted to witness his obvious ulterior motives in person._

_The other part of her. That calm, logical part of her that had kept her alive at the Heylin academy would have no of that. With a word she evoked the amulet's latent magic, and felt herself fading and fading … until she was only a breeze, flying back 'home'._

"_When I came back I looked everywhere for you. I searched the swamp for three days looking," Dashi murmured, as he and Wuya stood alone in the raging storm. "I wouldn't find you for years though … when we meet in the Valley of Monrarobi,"_

_Wuya remembered. She remembered re-meeting Dashi years later … remembered their battles that had spanned across the decades. At first for artifacts left from ages long past … until eventually Wuya had struggled to strip the monk's seemingly limitless magical devices from him through the obscure rites of Xiaolin Showdowns._

_She, the greatest sorceress who would ever live. Pitted against him, the most powerful monk the world would ever know._

"_And at anytime I could have killed you Wuya. At the gates of Rissima. At the town of Kuryo. At Sisses. Even during our last battle the advantage was obviously mine," Dashi said softly._

"_Idiot! Don't you remember Lazzera? Gromish? Awlllay? Is your memory so distorted that you don't even remember my victories?!" Wuya sneered._

"_I couldn't win those battles without killing you," Dashi murmured. "Yes we fought … but I never wanted to hurt you. I had the Eagle Scope and the Fountain of Hui … remember? I knew how our battles would play out long before they actually happened,"_

Wuya cringed. She'd always wondered why she perpetually seemed at a disadvantage when she fought the Xiaolin forces. Even her victories had always seemed more the act of luck then as a demonstration of her skills and power. She swallowed hard and felt her lips tighten.

"_Then you were a fool. Victory was in your grasp and you refused to take it. You've only yourself to blame when I control the very cosmos," Wuya growled, wondering the power of the monk's toys … if he had stared through the eons themselves, and could foil her plans even now._

"_Circe …" Dashi whispered. Wuya froze, it had been centuries since anyone had known her true name. A safeguard against the Xiaolin's legendary artifact, the "Black Book of Exedon"._

_But Dashi knew. How long had he known?_

"_Circe. I wrote my name in Exedon's book right after I captured you. Because I had to know. Why didn't I kill you?! I locked you away … but in time we both knew you would escape your bonds. Escape to a time when the Fountain of Hut and the Eagle Scope were no longer joined. To a time when I would no longer be there to thwart your plans. I had to know …"Dashi's fists clenched and Wuya was stunned to see that the monk did possess a purely serious side. "Why? Was it because I really thought one day you could be rehabilitated … that you could cast off your ties with darkness and prove to be a powerful ally to the agents of light? Or … or … did I lock you away because I couldn't kill you?"_

_The storm raged around them, almost as it the dragons of wind and water knew the unfolding scene and wished to provide their own accompaniment to it._

"_It was the later, Circe," Dashi whispered. "The book revealed what I had always feared. I could only thwart you because of this. This memory that we share. The moment we just watched. The moment where I fell in love with you,"_

"_So what happens now Dashi?," Wuya hissed, her fingers subtlety moving to her sides._

"_I beg you to give this up. Stay with me. Here. In this memory. Give up your stolen body and we'll live in this dream. You and me. It doesn't have to end this way … we can rewrite the story," Dashi pleaded._

_Wuya nodded, as if in agreement, while taking baby steps away from the monk, widening the distance between them._

"_Don't Wuya. Please. Don't do this," Dashi whispered, and for a second Wuya hesitated. Would it be so bad to stay her? To relive her life? To start over with someone who seemed to truly loved her?_

_Wuya's hands danced up, as the witch internally prayed she time enough for her spell. She'd made the mistake once to not kill this monk, she wouldn't do so again. What had he done last time she had let him survive?? He'd made a fool out of her for decades_

_The past was the past … the only thing that mattered was the future._

"_Fool," she sneered, as her fingers rapidly traced glyphs in the air. "As if I'd sacrifice the world for something as insignificant as you,"_

"_I suppose I can understand that," Dashi said with a sad smile. "I can wait a little longer. Before I died I asked the Fountain of Hui one last question …"_

Arcane words slipped out of Wuya's mouth the same way the sky bled tears. If she even heard the monk's words she didn't reply.

"_Can I make her love me?"_

_Her spell neared completion._

"_It said yes. But only if I waited."_

_Dashi felt the spell explode against him. Felt it banish him, trap him. With a smile he appreciated the irony of Wuya's enchantment. After all, he knew this spell all to well._

_The last time it'd been cast, he'd sucked Wuya into a prison box with it._

_Wuya watched her enemy's specter disappear. Closed her eyes and smoothed her dress._

"_Goodbye fool monk," she whispered to the withered landscape._

_Feeling a strange emptiness in her chest. Filling vaguely cheated her eternal rival hadn't put up more of a fight then that._

* * *

Author's Notes;

Let it be known, first and foremost. I hate … HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE … this chapter. Despite obsessive amounts of editing and rewriting, it still seems choppy and forced at places … and some of the new stylistic components just make my soul die a little inside (as I sit and here and go 'that doesn't seem right … but for the life of me I can't seem to make it better' not to mention how bloody LONG this chapter is /headdesk/)

That aside, on to the quick notes; author's notes;

1) You guys are incredibly loyal. I STILL occasionally get reviews on this thing … despite not updating since February. That being said, no matter how long it takes I'm going to truck on for you loyal readers and finish this fic … because those reviews might not seem like much, but they really mean a great deal to me.

2) This was supposed to be Raimundo and Dashi's chapter.

Raimundo finally gets some needed characterization (this is the answer to 'why' he's so resistant to his feelings. Not only was he pretty much shunned by everyone he knew for a year … he also got to see his father beat the crap out of the first person he had any real feelings for. Obviously those mental scars are going to be reoccurring. We've seen them in the past … IE-the way he and Clay fist fight about him 'liking' Jack –his reaction make more sense now? - And you can bet your sweet buttons his sexual insecurity will rear its head again). (Though – FYI – I really felt that section ended up being more Jason's story then Rai's … as an author I did try to prospective shift it … but it just didn't work when I tried to keep the focus solely on Raimundo … which annoyed me a great deal). As for as how physical things got between Jason and Raimundo … that was me trying some new writing components (and yes, I know, worst sex-esk scene EVER goes to me), as well as trying to underscore how fast everything unfolded (and that physical piece was vital. James was trying to show his love the only way he could think of … touch. A lot of touch. Which does kind of reflect on how a lot of the gay relationships I know in person started … because touch lead to sex, sex lead to attempted intimacy, and attempted intimacy lead to an attempted relationships). … Okay … and to be completely honest I totally wanted to slip in the line "Do you have to be better then me at everything" regarding Raimundo's nether regions (because I like to think I'm funny, even if the only person I ever entertain is me).

Dashi. Dashi came out softer then I might have liked. This was his chapter to finally come clean (and it allowed me the ability to address some plot points that I think the show overlooked. IE – if Dashi had wanted to, he could have killed Wuya numerous times by using some of the more broken Shen Gong Wu. So the question comes down to WHY he wouldn't. And all that being said I think it's an easy case to say he had a special spot for the girl. ALSO … this allowed me a believable way to take Dashi out the equation for later. So for all of you who thought that eventually Dashi was going to appear and be the Deus ex machine … yeah … no dice there).

3) I'm sure I said Dr. Raphael would never make an appearance and now suddenly he has his own little cameo. Yeah. Long story short? I felt Jack should get his own little dream sequence too (since all the other main characters were) … and it was the one scene where someone could conceivably be happy (because Jack's childhood angst has already been slightly explored). Though granted … there's a lot (A LOT) more Jack angst later …

4) If any of you remember chapter two (… and trust me, I'm not offended if you don't), you'll remember the name that the black book of Exedon gave for Jack's friends included a "Circe" but no "Wuya". My thoughts are that ancient forces of evil weren't ever stupid enough to use their own names – and yes, Chase's name was different there too.).

5) Just so everyone knows (think of it as a fun fact time) … Wuya was named after Circe from Greek myth (who was a witch who turned men into beasts on her islands where time moved differently then the rest of the world). Dr. Raphael was named after the archangel Raphael (the inside pun being, that archangel Raphael in Catholic lore resides over healing). Chase's new name was Nar Chess (similarly to Nacress? Root of Narcissist … /grins/)

6) And that's really all I've got (though I really wanna hear honest opinions about this chapter from you guys. Did I keep people in character and make believable past scenes? Or did I suck at points and should seek out a beta to keep a watchful eye on me… as well as kick my ass into gear to try and keep chapters coming out at a more reasonable pace?).

Anyway … after about a solid week of writing (and twenty-five pages of hell later) … I declare this chapter DONE!

So, until next time folks

-Shiva's Avatar-


	10. Chapter Nine

Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Nine – Somewhere In-Between 'Once Upon a time' and 'Happily Ever After'

By- Shiva's Avatar

"_Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mama's going to buy you a mocking bird …"_

Jack rubbed his eyes for what seemed to be the umpteenth time as he continued to stumble along the hallway, dimly registering that everything was as it should be. The rugs were cleaned, the windows washed, the somewhat garish hallway decor polished to the point where Jack had to stare down at the floor, least he be blinded by reflected sunlight. Everything was exactly as it should be, the same way it had been for over a year and a half now; ever since Jack had taken complete control of the day to day running of the manor. Yawning, Jack again rubbed his eyes and wondered then why something felt so out of place.

Like he had missed something.

"… _and if that mocking bird won't sing, mama's going to buy you a diamond ring …"_

Jack shook his head and turned a corner. The more he thought about it, the more something seemed glaringly out of place. He took the steps two at a time as he bit his lip and tried to figure out what he was missing.

Grace had gone out shopping, leaving a note taped to Jack's door; either so that he wouldn't worry or to make sure that he noticed she was absent. Grace shopping wasn't atypical, though the timing of her departure was off by a few hours when compared against her norm. Jack shrugged, that was easily explained away though; as Grace was letting him work things out with Raimundo without fear that anyone would interrupt their no doubt emotional conversation. Jack nibbled harder on his lip. Granted it was a little permissive on her part, but Jack could understand, appreciate even, her wanting to limit her tampering with his social/love life.

Jack swung around another corner and began to descend another set of stairs.

Raimundo, for his part, was still passed out in the guest room. Moments earlier Jack had gently knocked on the wooden door and peeked in when gentle knocking turned into heavy banging with still no response. Upon opening the door he had been greeted by the sight of a nearly naked Raimundo, laying on his back, the entire bed askew. His tan body intertwined with the room's powder blue sheets, obscuring Raimundo's crotch, where Jack had found his eyes instantly and guiltily drawn, as well as a leg, the other leg jutting awkwardly away from the sheets gentle embrace, pillows haphazardly shoved every which way. Lancing from a crack in the curtains, a sliver of sunlight shown across Raimundo's toned chest, snaked down an arm, and gleamed across a cupped hand, Raimundo's fingers occasionally twitching, making formless shadow puppets atop the yin-yang design of the room's Oriental rug. The Brazilian's face perfect, the sight of it making Jack's heart skip a beat, as midnight locks framed Raimundo's model features.

Jack had wanted to wake Raimundo up so that he could make them some breakfast … well, lunch now. Instead he left figuring that Raimundo probably hadn't slept all that well and could use the extra down time. A little voice in the back of Jack's mind pointed out that he only let the wind dragon continue to sleep because he didn't want him to leave, but Jack made peace with that voice the same way he always did … by pointed ignoring its existence and continuing on his merry way.

"… _and if that diamond ring turns brass, mama's going to buy you a looking glass …"_

Jack stopped, his hand tightening its grip on the nearby handrail. The sight of Raimundo should have woken him up. His face should be flushed, his pulse racing. Instead he was calm. Serene. Still drowsy even. Factor on top of that, he shouldn't have been able to sleep at all last night. In fact he hadn't even intended to try. And then all of a sudden he had gone completely catatonic, almost as if narcoleptic, hitting his forehead against his keyboard and spending the whole night passed out across his desk.

Jack shoved his thumb against an incisor and pressed. Sure enough, there was a pinprick of pain. He wasn't dreaming. This was real.

Jack frowned. Something was definitely off.

" … _and if that looking glass gets broke, mama's going to buy you a Billy goat …"_

And then it hit him. Grace was gone. Raimundo was asleep. He was standing on the stairs thinking. And the housebots moved in an omnipresent hush.

But someone was definitely singing. Loudly and off-key, the audio stimulus definitely present.

Jack frowned darkly and wondered if Grace had forgotten to reset the alarm. No doubt some petty thief had thought it was their lucky day to find the Spicer manner so unguarded. Tip-toeing down the rest of the stairs Jack strained to follow the bastardized tune, running through his mind the vocal codes which would bring the full brunt of the house's defenses on the unlucky burglar.

"… _and if that Billy goat won't pull, mama's going to buy you a cart and bull …"_

Talk about brazen! The thief was in the kitchen, no doubt starting their crime spree with a light snack.

Jack could smell bacon and eggs as he slipped into the room, crouched behind a counter and found his eyes drawn to the sizzling pan on the nearby stove. The door to the walk in pantry was open, while a nearby housebot toweled down a tiled counter. Jack's frown deepened, the housebot should have at least alerted him to the presence of a stranger.

"… _and if that cart and bull turn over, mama's going to buy you a dog named Rover …"_

"Housebot!" Jack hissed. Instantly a head shot up and the machine bleeped out questioningly.

"Come here!" Jack said motioning, keeping his eyes pinned on the pantry.

"Now, on my signal you rush forward and apprehend the robber, alright?" Jack whispered. The housebot responded with a series of chirps and beeps. Jack felt his right eye twitch, unsure of how angry he should feel that his creation had just told him what amounted to a 'no'.

"… _and if that dog named Rover won't bark, mama's going to buy you a horse and cart…"_

Which didn't make sense. He shouldn't even have to be giving this command verbally seeing as there were clear instructions on what to do if a stranger entered the house uninvited.

And then it all made sense. Made sense in a way that knotted Jack's stomach and cost him his crouch, introducing his rear to the linoleum floor.

"… _and if that horse and cart fall down, you'll still be the sweetest boy in town …"_

Altering the 'stranger' to his presence.

Jack could hear her heels click as she approached. Could see the flash of her floral skirt as she eloquently twisted around the counter. Could somehow even smell her vanilla scented perfume over the heavy fragrance of simmering bacon.

"…_So hush little baby, don't you cry. Daddy loves you and so do I."_

Jack lifted ruby eyes to meet her heart-shaped face. To watch her coral lips slide an inch outward, transforming from mundane body parts into a heart-wrenching smile. Chocolate irises lighting up at the sight of him, while a slim hand slide effortless through a waterfall of auburn colored hair.

"Jack-Jack! About time you woke up sleepy-head!" Ophelia chirped, lightly ruffling Jack's hair.

"O … O … Ophelia?" Jack whispered, closing his eyes, certain that any minute now he was going to wake up.

"Ophelia?" the Spicer matriarch echoed quizzically, arching an eyebrow.

"Ye … yeah. Ophelia …" Jack felt a lump in his throat and swallowed back tears. It had been ages since his mother had looked this good. "You … you … you look really good today,"

"Jack-Jack, you are not really calling your mother by her first name," Ophelia said with an exaggerated pout, her hands roosting on her hips as looked down at Jack. "And hurry up and get off the floor, breakfast is ready. I was just going to have someone go and wake you …"

Jack shook his head. "Ophelia, you seem much …"

"Mama," Ophelia corrected sharply. "Please stop calling me by my name Jack-Jack,"

Jack felt his fingers curl to his palm and an incisor caress his lower lip. She seemed so much better …

" … Ophelia … it's just …" Jack tried again, still somehow resistant to giving this woman her proper title.

"It's MAMA," Ophelia interrupted, tears starting to leak out of the edges of her eyes.

Her Jack-bot caretaker materialized from the doorway, sneaking forward to intervene should Ophelia turn aggressive. Jack watched her face contort and even readied himself for a violent response, waited for her to insult or to attack him. Ophelia surprised him again though, when she angrily wiped her eyes with a finger before twirling around and walked to the stove. Once she was in front of it, her hands slid up her arms as she embraced herself and started to sob.

Her Jack-bot care taker floated there emotionlessly and observed. The house-bot maneuvered itself around her so that it could flip the bacon and check on the eggs. Jack pushed himself to his feet and tentatively approached his mother.

"I … I know I haven't always been a good mama Jack-Jack," Ophelia chocked out in-between sobs. "But I didn't know you didn't love me anymore … that you won't even call me mama anymore,"

"No, that's … that's not it," Jack mumbled, now standing directly behind her. Hesitantly he lifted his hands and reached out, stopping them just short of contact. She had looked so much better, but it was obvious she was still sick … God only knew the reaction touching her would have. "You just … you used to get really upset when I called you mama,"

Ophelia hiccupped. "I love you Jack-Jack,"

Jack felt himself hesitate again, before gingerly reaching around her and pulling her into a loose embrace. "I love you too mama,"

The nearby housebot pulled the bacon and eggs from their respective pans, dished them onto plates, before effortless placing them on the tables and floated back to its counter-cleaning chore. Ophelia's hands wrapped themselves around Jack's arms as she moved backward, tightening her son's embrace.

"I … I want to get better Jack-Jack. I want to be a good mama to you," she suddenly whispered.

"Will you go to therapy then? Actually see Dr. Merone this time? Take your meds?" Jack asked softly, talking around the lump in his throat, as tears pricked flame colored eyes. Knowing what he was risking, seeing as last time he had even tried to mention therapy she had whipped a plate at his head, fast followed by a water glass, two forks, salad and dinner, a steak knife, and a tea spoon.

"Anything you want Jack-Jack. Anything it takes for me to be a good mama," Ophelia murmured back.

Jack let himself go. After thousands of failed attempts he had given up hope that Ophelia would ever willingly agree to seek help for her obvious psychiatric ills. Even just the hope that she might get better … that they might someday be a real family … was enough to push Jack over the edge. Shoving his face into his mother's fragile shoulder, he wept piteously, thanking any passing deity that might be listening for this seemingly impossible miracle.

Ophelia for her part, simply rubbed Jack's arm reassuringly. Her chocolate eyes hardening to become calculating amethysts, her lips twisting into a crooked grin as she silently mouthed.

'_Got you'._

_XXXXXXXXXXX_

_CRACK!!_

Raimundo felt his entire body jolt.

Shit! What time was it?! Was he late for practice? Why the hell hadn't Clay made sure he was up in time to at least grab breakfast first?

Raimundo blinked his eyes and shook his head, trying hard to focus. This didn't seem like his cubicle sized room at the temple …

And then there was a scream. Shrill and obviously of the women in distress variety.

Raimundo didn't even hesitate. He vaulted off the plush bed scattering sheets, blankets and pillows across the floor. Running full tilt he leapt down the first flight of stairs, rolling to soften the impact, before charging down a corridor. Using that siren sounding scream as a beacon, he kicked off the wall of the second staircase, saving him several seconds as he again rolled, effortlessly regaining his feet and charging down a second hallway.

Finally he hit a doorway where the octaves seemed to peak before suddenly fading away. Raimundo fisted his hands, flipped into the room, and let out a roar to attract the attention of the assailants …

… and found a distraught looking woman wringing her hands. Nearby a mass of greenish-gray metal lay heaped against a nearby counter, visible sparks occasionally dancing across its mutilated form. Next to the mass of metal knelt Jack Spicer, pulling on a pair of thick gloves with the aid of a robotic aside. Completing the scene, as Raimundo dimly noted that he'd gashed his foot, lay shards of broken porcelain.

Four eyes turned. Two brown, two red.

And then the woman was screaming again. Jack's gloved hand flying to his face as if to try and hide the fact that his cheeks had developed a dark crimson tint. Raimundo paused for a fraction of a moment wondering what was going on; his entrance hadn't been that intimidating.

And then it hit him.

Like the universal clichéd nightmare with a slight scenery switch.

He had charged in to save the day completely naked. And given his battle ready stance, with fists clenched and legs spread, he was awarding his would-be rescueies a complete eyeful of his manhood.

Awkwardly Raimundo looked around the room hoping for something to fight. Something big and dangerous and clearly an immediate threat so it was understandable why he didn't get dressed before charging in. Seeing nothing like that appear, Raimundo wondered if he could literally die of embarrassment.

The woman's shriek stopped long enough that she could inhale before again sending it echoing throughout the Spicer estate. A still blushing and staring Jack loudly cleared his throat before attempting to speak in a slurred mass of consonants.

"Shitshitshitshitshitshit!" Raimundo hissed, darting out of the room. It wasn't until three hallways later that he realized that he had no idea where he was and absolutely no clue about which way he should be heading.

"Shit. Shit. SHIT!" Raimundo hissed again, randomly turning left down another impossibly long, maze-like, corridor. Eyes darting across slews of doors, windows and hallways that all seemed perfectly identical. The decor didn't even offer him an option of makeshift clothing seeing as it seemed to be a perpetual litany of antiquated suits of armor, various fragile looking vases and urns, with an occasional framed watercolor of some nature based scene.

Now fully awake, Raimundo winced. He also couldn't sneak outside and leave, seeing as that somewhere in his former archenemy's stronghold was one of the more potent shen gong wu. Not to mention his clothes and his medallion, the latter worth more to Raimundo then the golden tiger claws. Raimundo sighed, rubbed a temple, and resisted the urge to slam his fist through what had to be a fortune of ugly assembled clutter.

"Ra … Raimundo?" whimpered a voice from behind him. Wincing, Raimundo turned before thinking the action through, his training having taught that you never simply left your back turned to an enemy. Though watching the genius awkwardly rub the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed, Raimundo wondered if he even counted as an enemy anymore …

"I … bu … ja …ya … er …" Jack sputtered off bizarre mixtures of consonants and vowels, his eyes tracing downward, only to fly up to gaze guilty into Raimundo's emerald spheres for a second or two, before again beginning their downward decent.

Raimundo cocked an eyebrow. What the hell was so damn interesting …

"Stop looking at my fucking dick!" he roared when it again dawned on him that he was still naked, cupping the aforementioned body part to hide it as best he could, unable to figure out how he could have forgotten that little detail. Jack winced at the sudden yelling, before wrenching his gaze upward, staring past Raimundo's head, unable to meet the Brazilian's eyes.

"Why are you even running around my house naked anyway?" Jack countered, his voice louder then he'd intended.

"I heard someone screaming! I fucking thought that someone was in trouble and not that one of your crappy robots was malfunctioning again," Raimundo growled.

"Because I planned to drop a plate and to have the housebot run into the counter! You caught me Raimundo, it was all part of my master plan," Jack hissed angrily, not sure what he'd done to deserve Raimundo's obvious ire.

After a few seconds, not to mention running a gamut of emotions, Raimundo asked icily, "Was it?"

"Was it what?" Jack asked confused, still trying to keep his focus on the wall behind Raimundo, as every time he tried to meet the monk's eyes, his rebellious irises would wonder downward, investigating the Brazilian's toned chest or chiseled abs.

"You're gay. You want to fuck me. Did you plan all this to see me naked?" Raimundo asked, his tone serrated. Jack's eyes widened cartoonishly, sheer amazement giving him the focus to go eye-to-eye with the wind dragon.

"What?!"

"You fucking heard me. If I found out this was all some fucking plan of yours, you're going to be eating your teeth Spicer," Raimundo yelled, a hand moving to clench into an intimidating looking fist, his jaw clenching.

"You really think I planned that whole thing out, just to see your penis," Jack asked, his voice dropping several octaves and his eyes hardening. "So how did you GET naked from last night then? Or did I sneak into your room last night and strip you too?"

Raimundo winced; he'd been so busy worrying about being naked that he hadn't even considered how he had gotten that way. Granted, when he lived in Rio he'd slept naked all the time given the omnipresent heat … but the rule in the temple was that everyone had to sleep in at least underwear. And while he'd been given to ignore that rule when he first arrived, that mindset changed drastically after walking out one morning and running into Kimiko topless while only wearing his birthday suit … he suddenly found it very comfortable to sleep in boxers after that, pajama pants too even.

"Hell, why don't we just accuse me of everything while we're at it! Did I rape you too Raimundo? Take pictures? Suck you off? Seriously, why don't just accuse me of it all!" Jack continued, his tone taking on that serious quality that sent shivers down Raimundo's spine.

"Fuck you," Raimundo spat back, feeling guilty … and resenting Jack for making him feel that way. This situation sure as hell wasn't his fault.

"Just say it Rai. Just call me a fucking faggot. Just say that you hate me and leave. I don't even know why you came here anyway … I don't need your pity," Jack sneered, hiccupping mid-rant, which completely destroyed the self-possessed facade the red head had been exuding.

The word was on the tip of Raimundo's tongue, so toxic he could taste it. Inside his father screamed to yell it, to punch Jack so hard between the eyes that the world became a blur, to hit the weaker teen over and over again for ever thinking it was remotely acceptable for him to have thought it okay to look at his body in such a way.

A mental master Fung held him back though. That second voice counseling patience and warned that whatever actions he performed now would have eternal consequences, bad or good. He could almost hear the zen-esk quote that ultimately boiled down to not flying off the handle just because another guy thought you were hot.

Raimundo's free hand clenched and unclenched as the seconds dragged on. Jack had closed his eyes and drew then released a series of ragged breaths, waiting.

"'m sorry," Raimundo finally managed to hiss. Jack drew then released another ragged breath.

"IsaidIwasfuckingsorry!" Raimundo yelled, spitting the words out rapid-fire style. Jack's Adam's apple bobbed as he cracked open a flame colored eye. Jack then opened his mouth to say something, but both he and Raimundo keenly felt his eyes slip downward and run across Raimundo's sculpted chest.

An incisor dug furiously into his lower lip and Jack tasted blood. He was livid at himself; he had more self-control then this! Before Raimundo could say anything Jack spun around.

"I'm sorry too. Rai … it's just … I really like you. Like you … like you would like a girl. And I know that you don't like me … I mean, I know that you don't like guys. But I just can't stop it," Jack hiccupped again and ran an arm across his eyes, shoving back the tears as best he could. "I really, really like you Rai … and … what I really wanted to say was … that … that if you were serious last night … I'd really love … I mean, I'd really … really like it if we could be friends. Platonic friends even …"

Raimundo couldn't help but see the resemblance. Similar heights, similar body types but definitely different personalities … all of it still so hauntingly familiar.

"I like you. Like you like a girl,"

He'd said something like that too, hadn't he? Said it in that begging voice, said it with that same husky pleading edge.

Raimundo's chest constricted painful.

Jason. Fucking Jason.

Jason. Who he hadn't loved, but had almost let screw him senseless on his living room floor.

Jason. With aqua colored eyes and a bold smile … nothing at all like Jack's blazing eyes and maniacal grin.

Raimundo winced as his chest again constricted painful.

Jason.

Fucking Jason.

Raimundo put his hand over his chest and gripped down hard, failing to prevent another painful spasm in his chest. It felt like he'd stacked bricks atop his chest and was now struggling to breath … it felt like … like …

… like he was being crushed.

"Clothes!" Raimundo blurted out, refusing to even go down that mental path, interrupting a still babbling Jack. To his credit Jack started to turn his head, before digging his incisor painfully into his inner cheek and keeping his gaze forward.

"What did you say Rai?" Jack asked, unable to follow the nonlinear flow.

"Clothes," Raimundo all but begged. "I … my room. Can you take me back to my room?"

"Um … sure … yeah. Whatever you want Rai," Jack mumbled, feeling vaguely cheated that Raimundo wouldn't hear him out. He'd been in the middle of confessing that while he did think the wind dragon was attractive, that he thought that he could move beyond that and he'd try his best to never do anything that would make Raimundo feel uncomfortable.

They walked down several hallways in an awkward silence.

"Jack," Raimundo said softly when the silence became too heavy. "When did you start calling me Rai?"

Jack stopped. The movement, or lack there of, so sudden that Raimundo almost walked into the other teen. Jack felt his fists clench as he used his college level mental vocabulary to hurl every insult he knew at himself. He'd always been so careful. Only Raimundo's friends could call him Rai.

"Ummm … everything ok?" Raimundo asked worriedly, when Jack failed to move for a full minute.

"I'm sorry," Jack apologized softly, an incisor digging a fresh hole in the other side of his mouth.

"For what?" Raimundo asked confused.

"Only … only your friends call you Rai," Jack admitted softly. Raimundo clucked his tongue at that, knowing a host of people in Rio who shortened his name and who he definitely didn't consider friends.

"…Whatever. It doesn't matter, you can call me Rai if you want," Raimundo said with a shrug. Jack felt his heart beat just a little bit faster. He'd always wanted to call Raimundo that.

"Thanks … Rai," Jack whispered hesitantly, knowing that there was no need to say the other boy's name, but wanting to savor finally being allowed to.

The two then continued onward, down a hall, up a flight of stairs, down several more corridors and then up another flight of stairs, Jack finally coming to a full stop in front of an open door, a mess of blankets, clothes and pillows littering the floor and bed of the guest room.

"Thanks," Raimundo murmured, fleeing into the room and shutting the door. Jack, meanwhile, leaned against a nearby wall and congratulated himself on not turning around to catch one last sight of his naked crush.

Jack frowned suddenly, digging a cusped into his upper lip. Had he always been this obsessed with Raimundo's body? Sure he liked to look at the Brazilian ... during their shen gong wu battles and such, but he'd never tried to see Raimundo naked. He never slipped a camera in the monk's shower or anything perverted like that …

… so why now was it taking every ounce of his inner fortitude not to crack open the door and watch the wind dragon change? Jack's frown deepened and he shook his head. Something was wrong …

"So, ummm …"

Jack's head whipped around to see Raimundo clad in his usual attire, tanned hands playing with his golden medallion.

"So …" Jack began.

"I really …" Raimundo sighed.

Both stopped, waiting.

"You go first," Jack said after they both spent several second shuffling their feet and awkwardly avoiding looking at one another.

"I need to head back to the temple. You know, training and stuff," Raimundo said, his hands tightening their grip on the gold disk around his neck.

"Yeah, I understand," Jack nodded, relived. "I've got stuff I've got to do today too,"

Both indulged in another moment of foot shuffling and fidgeting.

"But I could, you know, come back and visit sometime soon," Raimundo shrugged. Jack felt his heart twist painfully … did Raimundo just say that he'd come back?

"Ye … Yeah. That'd be cool. Really cool. We could … hang out … and … do … stuff …" Jack replied lamely, inwardly wincing.

And it was round three of foot shuffling and fidgeting.

"So catch you later," Raimundo said, spreading out his arms, distant hug style.

"Goodbye," Jack said, hand outstretched for a handshake.

Both stared at the other and tried to correct, Jack moving for a hug and Raimundo stretching out an arm.

Raimundo grinned, shrugged, and gave Jack a light punch in the shoulder, "Laters Spicer. Golden Tiger Claws!"

Leaving a weak-kneed Jack whispering 'goodbye' to an empty room.

_XXXXXXXXXXX_

PandaBubba was a black pawn and would be taken by the white pawn, Kimiko.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the black pawn flying off the bored, before gently setting the white pawn in its place.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the bored, Katnappe, yet another black pawn, would take the white knight, Guan.

Another flick of the wrist sent the black knight hurtling from the chessboard.

At this point the game would become dicey. Risky even.

Ink stained fingers danced a slew of pieces around the chessboard, occasionally flicking off marble pieces when they inconvenienced her precise movements.

Should everything go according to plan though, Jack should be able to take out that damnable dragon. A black rook darted forward knocking a far-off white rook off the table.

Simultaneously, she should be able to take out that irritating master monk.

The white queen twisted violently, suddenly sending the white king flying.

Which would, in turn, allow her to maneuver things … pieces all across the board danced around again; a sole set of pawns, one black, one white, remaining stationary, locked in place in front of one another in the center of the board.

And with all eyes still locked on what seemed to be an elementary strategy … the white queen was flicked from the bored, no longer need, while the black queen flew across the board to send the black king soaring across the room.

"Checkmate," Wuya hissed softly, eyes narrowed, her new voice still sounding foreign to her.

She hated this body. Hated its weakness, its fragility. Hated having being reduced to parlor tricks when she used to be able to control the cosmos themselves. The great dragons themselves had once bowed before her and paid her homage … and to suddenly be reduced to the magics of a mere apprentice sorceress …

Wuya growled. She had realized in the beginning that this would be the case. Not as if knowledge had made the transition any easier for her.

Sighing, Wuya wearily rubbed a temple. All things considered, things were going perfectly as planned. Jack was chomping at the bit to love and save 'mama', and with a little magical nudge Raimundo was starting to become friends with Jack.

Pursing her lips, Wuya gently ran a finger over her pawns locked in a stalemate. Given time that friendship would grow to become love, or at least love's twice removed cousin, lust. And that grade school romance would be what took center stage, allowing her to operate behind the scenes and do as she willed.

The reasons for that attention would be varied. Wuya doubted Omi could handle boys liking boys. A 'missing' shen gong wu would have Clay up in arms and overly defensive. Kimiko was emotional by nature and would get involved without prompting. Leaving Dojo and Fung to deal with their bickering charges while the side plots resolved themselves in assassin-esk fashion. Until …

Wuya looked down at the white king littering the floor, a small smirk playing on her lips. Then without Fung, the Xiaolin monks were hardly any danger. She ran it all through her mind for the thousandth time. Only one person could really stop her. Only one of her enemies represented a tangible threat. Her eyes darted to where the black king had landed, her smirk dissolving into a snarl.

All she could do now though was prepare. All she could do now was start moving her pieces into the positions they would need to be in later.

Today had already played out beautiful. Jack had fallen for her lure easily … and with a little planning and some magical preparation, Raimundo had entered before Jack could begin to question his sudden luck.

Followed of course by that oh so romantic scene. Jack following Raimundo's bloody footprints, worrying about the boy he loved. Raimundo frantic, frightened and lost. The two would meet and bicker … testosterone levels abnormally high due to some inexplicably, almost magical reason … and during that fight they would bond. Raimundo would remember once upon a time, while Jack would continue dreaming of happily ever after …

The whole thing so sappy and melodramatic it made Wuya want to gag.

Ultimately though, her plan resolved those two. Their relationship would gain her access to her enemy's sanctuary. Their relationship would keep those wise or magical enough to detect her plans distracted and inattentive. Their relationship would keep the monks preoccupied, making them miss their already limited opportunities to stop her.

Idly Wuya stroked the black pawn in the center of her chessboard. It would also ironically give Jack everything he had ever wanted.

Wuya felt a flutter in her chest and snarled. Every since she'd broken free of Dashi's mask she couldn't seem to push the red haired teen from her mind. She suspected Dashi had tampered with her imprisonment spell and these emotions were the result of some lingering curse the monk had left behind should she ever slip free of his bonds. Wuya again resolved to investigate that theory further once this body was capable of actively handling the strain of high levels of Heylin magic.

And all that really mattered was that in the end she gained her rightful place … as master of the world.

And if Jack somehow disrupted her plans in anyway …

A thin hand snapped across the chessboard, sending the remaining pieces clattering off the table and scattering them across the floor. Placing a hand on the empty board Wuya closed her eyes, drew deep breaths, and ran mentally through her plan one more time.

"Ophil … I mean … mama … are you … are you alright?"

Wuya opened her eyes. Ah, if it wasn't her little black pawn in the flesh.

"Fine Jack-Jack," said calmly, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her sundress.

"What …" Jack paused looking around the room and Wuya easily read the hesitance in his eyes. "What were you doing here in the library?"

"Playing chess love," Wuya replied, tossing him a cheerful grin. She watched Jack run a canine tooth across before his lower lip.

Aww. He was worried. Wasn't that cute?

Jack swallowed. "Ma … Mama. Dr. Merone has an opening today at six … she said you could come … if you wanted too,"

Wuya resisted rolling her eyes. Ultimately she knew she would have to indulge Jack by seeing this Dr. Merone … but Wuya personally thought she was much more in need of a manicure then psychological aid.

"Hmmmm," she murmured, pursing her lips. "But what about that boy running around our house naked. I was just thinking about calling the police …"

Jack's face turned scarlet and Wuya resisted the urge to laugh, this was almost too easy.

Jack mumbled something.

"What was that love?" Wuya asked, plucking the phone from a nearby receiver. "Did you get a good look at him? Perhaps I should try to sketch him out before the authorities arrive …"

Jack's face was now absolutely burning, forcing Wuya to turn away least her fast forming smirk give her away.

"I said … he's my … friend," Jack whimpered, his voice shifting inflection on the last word, making it sound almost questioning. Staying in character Wuya whipped her head around to stare at Jack.

"Do your friends run around the manor in nude often?" she asked, putting on a horrified face. "They don't make you run around naked too, do they Jack-Jack?! They don't touch you in bad places, do they?!"

Wuya whisked across the room to envelop Jack into a chocking embrace. "My baby! Please tell me they didn't do anything to hurt my baby!"

Jack struggled his way out of her arms. "No mom! Rai's really cool. He's a really great martial artiest and he was only naked because he heard you scream and thought you were in trouble!"

Wuya shot Jack her best disbelieving glare.

"… It's a long story," Jack mumbled, shaking his head.

Jack sighed, rubbed his hair in frustration and then suddenly brightened. Grabbing her hand he tugged her several rooms down into a fairly plush living room. Running a finger across a bookshelf filled with dvds, he withdraw one seemingly at random and popped it into the nearby player. He then flagged her over to sit on the couch as the video began to load. Him undermining any chance she had to ask questions by quickly hitting play on a nearby remote and jacking up the volume.

Wuya recognized the unfolding drama immediately. It was the Shadow of Fear debacle, all on screen.

All starting in Jack's menacing looking lair, some digital editing making the familiar place seem eerie and sinister. A 'maniacal looking youth' plotting against his foes, a dark and foreboding specter urging the boy onward.

A scene later the heroes entered, all enhanced by Jack's technological magic. Kimiko's flames wrapped around her as she fought the maniacal youth's robotic minions, giving her an almost surreal beauty. Omi's water based attacks flashed across the screen with an easy grace, all highlighting the monk's amazing skills. Clay became picturesque, as he guided the very earth into his attacks through a series of steady moves.

And Raimundo …

Jack's breath hitched when Raimundo appeared on screen. The wind dragon looked male model perfect as kicked off stone barriers to do a slew of aerial acrobatic attacks. His fists moving lightning fast as he tore through metal, the camera zooming in to show off an award winning smile. Wuya resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Wuya lifted her hand and rested it on Jack's head, the boy making a startled noise at the unexpected touch. Wuya inched closer to him until their hips were touching and whispered into his ear;

"Your friend is very cute Jack-Jack,"

Jack's face went from normal to scarlet in a fraction of a second. Wuya smiled, it was like playing a violin. Touch a cord and the response was both predictable and immediate.

"I … he …you see …" Jack mumbled into his lap.

Wuya whispered arcane words beneath her breath while her former minion babbled, hiding her intentions by slowly running her fingers through Jack's inferno colored hair. Slowly the boy's eyes sagged closed; his head falling into Wuya's lap, his prattle replaced the sounds of steady breathing.

Wuya closed her eyes and sighed. Dr. Merone could wait. She still had one task left to handle.

Another fire attack flashed across the nearby silver screen. Gently running her fingers through Jack's hair she watched and she remembered. When the dvd finally concluded, the heroes having saved the day and the maniacal youth left flying away and vowing revenge … Wuya frowned as she remembered what the heroes had done after saving the day, Jack having conveniently edited out their return usage of the fear provoking shen gong wu. Looking down she felt her face soften as she watched that same 'maniacal youth' slumber.

He looked so young. So innocent. And so very, very fragile.

He should be the villain he had once acted like, albeit far more ruthless then he ever was when he worked for the Heylin side. Yet here he was, fingers twisting themselves in the soft material of her dress, his lips fluttering as he dreamed.

Outside the nearby window the sun began a slow decent. A nearby clock counting away the minutes in red number form. Wuya did nothing, said nothing, somehow content to sit there and watch the sun begin its ritual disappearing act.

The sky was just starting to lose its menagerie of colors when she heard a series of beeps behind her. Looking back Wuya found Ophelia Spicer's old robotic caretaker emitting a systematic series of beeps.

Beeping out the signal that Robo-Jack had programmed into it. Just as she had commanded him too.

Wuya gently moved Jack's head and stood up.

"Take care of him," Wuya commanded the nearby robot, as she strode out of the room, the robot immediately producing a blanket from somewhere and covering its charge. At the doorway she was tempted to look back and check to make sure Jack was alright … then sneered at herself for caring and quickened her pace.

Tucked away inside her were Ophelia Spicer's memories, so navigating the labyrinth of hallways was a simple trick. And all too soon Wuya once again found herself inside the manor's kitchen, her eyes burning holes into the back of the sole living servant of the Spicer household.

Grace had finally returned home from shopping and Wuya intended to give her the greeting she so rightfully deserved.

Grace spun around when she heard the click of Wuya's high heels against the tiled floor. The maid's eyes growing ridiculously wide.

"Ms. Spicer," she choked out in her accented voice, her hands going up to play with her grey bun of hair. "I haven't seen you in …"

She tapered off, her eyes scanning the room. Wuya's smile widened as the maid's heartbeat spiked.

"Would you … Can I make you something for dinner Ms. Spicer?" The maid asked, her voice cracking. Wuya's smile continued to widen, now showing off teeth. Grace had noticed that Ophelia's robotic guardian was no where in sight. Had noticed that Jack was nowhere in sight.

That the only thing around was two housebots casually unloading groceries.

Then Wuya lunged forward, her wrist encircling the elderly woman's throat, shoving her cruelly into a nearby counter. Grace sputtered and two tiny hands tried to pry the hand away … and had Grace been dealing with the original Ophelia Spicer, she might have even succeeded.

But Wuya had whispered yet another simple enchantment before entering the kitchen, augmenting her strength to that of a barbarian warrior. Her fingers digging deeper into the maid's fragile throat, Wuya missed her more powerful spells … spells that would have allowed her to pulverize this pathetic being with a literal flick of her fingers. Though in the grand scheme of things this was just as effective.

Grace's eyes bugged as she dug her nails over and over against her captor's arm. A nearby housebot meandered around the two, nonchalantly putting a carton of eggs and a container of milk into the nearby refrigerator.

Doing nothing to disrupt their mistress's plans. Just as Wuya had ordered Robo-Jack to reprogram them.

Wuya held Grace until the elderly woman went limp then casually dumped her to the floor. She then knelled down and wrapped her fingers around the old woman's chin. With her free hand she placed two fingers over the maid's lips and chanted a quick incantation.

Instantly she felt the results, feeling the woman's life essence seep from her body to be absorbed into those two awaiting fingers. The feeling was warm, comfortable … like drinking hot tea after coming in from a blizzard.

A few seconds later Wuya ripped her fingers away. She wanted to drain the useless hag dry, but her death now would be too conspicuous.

Wuya smiled. The worthless maggot would die when it was convenient for her. She had already planned this creature's demise … her death serving to aid in her ongoing plot.

Soon.

With a snap of her fingers, Wuya sent waves of magic to assault the maid's skin, effectively preventing the skin from bruising. Without proof the maid had nothing. No witnesses, no marks … no doubt the servant herself would question her own memory and sanity.

Wuya then stood, combed a hand through her hair, and threw the unconscious woman a superior gaze.

Soon. So very soon.

Smirking, Wuya rubbed her clothes free of wrinkles, before walking towards the door. Almost as an after-thought, she paused.

"Housebot. Take care of that,"

And then she continued on her way, vanishing into the darkening corridors of the Spicer manner without even a casual glance behind her.

_XXXXXXXXXXX_

"I told you too GET OUT," the girl screamed, a snap of her fingers having her three genetically altered kittens showing off three sets of intimidating fangs.

"And I told you … to. Shut. The. Fuck. Up," Jack responded, grinning.

"Last chance Spicer and then your cat food," Katnappe hissed, digging her hands into her bed, literally shaking with rage.

Katnappe had never felt so enraged in all of her life. She wasn't sure how, but Jack Spicer had just waltzed into her room, slamming the door behind him, before throwing her a shit-eating grin. She had been halfway through painting her nails before that dweeb had interrupted her … and now he didn't even have the good sense to leave before she had him torn to shreds.

Jack rolled his eyes at her threat and picked a magazine off her dresser. "Cat fancy Ashley? Wow, could you be any more of one dimensional?"

Nearby her kittens growled. The adorable white bundles of fur transforming from string batting balls of cuteness to pissed off bulldog mode. Three sets of feline ears pressed flat against their skulls, three backs perfectly arched into death leap mode, three tails flicked angrily back and forth.

"Kittens attack!" Katnappe commanded, determined to not call the beasts off until Jack begged her too … and only then after they drew blood. She'd make Spicer regret every violating her turf.

Hissing, all three cats leapt forward …

… and then all three cats hit the floor. A tiny hole leaking scarlet having appeared in-between three sets of crystal blue eyes.

Jack blew a wrist, where the bullets had sprang from, before throwing Katnappe another grin. She stared back at him in complete horror. He had shot her cats. He had killed her babies.

… And now he was aiming that wrist level with her forehead.

Katnappe had never been so terrified in her entire life. Jack had finally snapped and he was going to kill her.

"I hate to be cliché, but scream and you die," Jack said calmly, that smile never leaving his face.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Her dad's estate had guards and alarms and all types of genetically enhanced pets.

"Now that I have your full attention, there's something I need you to do for me Ashley" Jack said, walking towards her. Katnappe felt herself start to hyperventilate, edging backwards until she ran out of bed and her back crushed against the wall.

"Look Jack, whatever you want I can help you," Katnappe whimpered, her breath coming in gasps as Jack continued to move forward, stepping on the body of Buttons, that creepy smile still never leaving his face. "You … you don't have to hurt me …"

He was at the side of her bed now.

"But what if I want to hurt you?" he responded playfully.

Katnappe swallowed. She was terrified, but Jack had made a fatal mistake in closing the gap between them. Katnappe lunged forward, her razor nails aiming for a crimson eye. She was going to tear that smile off of his fucking face …

Jack's hand flew upward impossibly fast, caught her wrist, and twisted, sending waves of pain running down Katnappe's arm. Desperately she swiped at him with her other hand, but that hand met a similar fate. Jack's smile was now inches from her face.

"Now," Jack whispered, his lips moving closer until they were almost touching her ear. "Like I said before. I need you to do something for me Ashley,"

She tried to twist her wrist out of his grasp, but he was too strong … far stronger then she ever remembered him being. Before she could begin to think about that though, he gave her wrists another painful twist.

"Are you paying attention yet Ashley?" Jack whispered, his tone playful.

"Yea … Yeah," Katnappe nodded and gave Jack a pained smile. "Just let me go Jack and we can talk about it … I can do … whatever you want,"

Jack tilted his head and seemed to think about it for a moment. Then nodded, a serene smile still on his lips as he released her wrists.

Only to suddenly punch her in the chest with astounding speed and strength.

Katnappe's hands flew over her left breast, a pained hiss escaping her lips. That hurt! That hurt her more then anything she had ever felt before …

… and what the fuck?! She was bleeding too? A gem of scarlet suddenly adorning her white tank top.

Torn between feeling absolutely terrified and utterly pissed, Katnappe pulled her tank-top and bra forward to get a look at the wound. She inhaled to scream when she saw a blinking red light embedded in her boob.

Jack's hand was over her mouth though, his free wrist pointing at her forehead.

"Uh, uh, uh … Scream and I shoot you, remember?"

And just like that he released her, seating himself next her on the bed and throwing her that same shit-eating grin.

"What. Did. You. Do. To. Me?" Katnappe somehow managed to choke out; lifting her shirt forward again to make sure she was just imaging things. Sure enough a weak light winked back at her.

"It's a bomb!" Jack responded happily.

This had to be a dream. A terrible nightmare which she would wake up from soon. The only problem being that one can't feel pain in dreams … and her chest was radiating waves of it.

"A bomb?" Katnappe hyperventilated.

"Yep!"

"You put a fucking bomb in my chest?!" she wheezed. This couldn't be real. Fuck, this couldn't even be humanly possible … he had to be bluffing … right?

Jack nodded. Katnappe's hand flew under her shirt … there was no way in hell she was leaving a bomb in her cleavage.

"Try to take it out and it goes boom" Jack said conversationally, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back comfortably. Katnappe withdrew her hand and gave him a terrified look, tears starting to form at the edges of her eyes.

"You tell the police about any of this. Boom. You tell daddy about this. Boom. You try to tell anyone any of this. Boom. Pretty much you do anything stupid and you go boom. Got it?" Jack continued, still grinning.

Katnappe nodded to broken for words.

"Now, I only need one favor from you. You do it, bomb comes out, and everythings golden," Jack said, moving closer again, his lips inches from her ear.

And then he whispered his plan to her, that smile never leaving his face for a second.

And Katnappe did the only rational thing. She asked him to repeat it, positive she had heard him wrong.

When he did so, she leaned over the bed and vomited.

"Naa … na … no way Spicer. I know crazy runs in your family, but no fucking way," Katnappe whispered, her face ashen.

He was insane. He was completely and totally fucking insane.

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you," Jack said into her ear, his tone still friendly.

Katnappe shook her head and resisted the urge to be sick again.

Jack suddenly grabbed the hair by the back of her skull and then pulled and twisted his hand, sending fresh waves of agony throughout her body.

"Lemme put it this way Ashley," Jack said happily. "You do what I told you too, or I make you wish you were them,"

And she was suddenly looking at the floor, at the bodies of her babies. Their feline forms limp, lifeless. Their lifeblood forever staining her white carpet.

And then Jack released her and stood. He pulled a black cell phone from his pocket and threw it on her bed.

"So. I'll be in touch. Laters Ashley," Jack said, making sure she saw his smile before he strolled out of the room.

Whistling. The sick fucker.

Left suddenly alone, Katnappe did the only logical thing she could think of.

She drew her knees to her forehead and cried.

* * *

Author's Notes;

So, yeah. You were probably all like "YAY! Shiva updated!" … and then you read this.

I'm figuring that now most of you are wondering what kind of sick and terrible person I am … what with all the old women beatings, kitten killings, and minor characters getting bombs punched into their cleavage.

I will address all of those concerns though … in bullet note format no less!

1) Villains are EVIL.

In a lot of what I read, this is seriously downplayed. Not here though. Wuya is evil folks. She is domineering, cruel, and occasionally sadistic. I mean, in the SHOW she tries to squish (literally squish) Raimundo's friends in front of him. Wuya doesn't care about Rai. She doesn't care about Omi, Kimiko, Clay, Fung, Grace or Dojo. In fact she sees most of them as obstacles to her plans … and treats them accordingly. The only person she's shown even a flicker of compassion for thus far is Jack (… and that's in-between playing his emotions like a xylophone). Wuya is evil here folks … and I'm not going to downplay that. So before you ask, the answer is yes. There is going to be upcoming character death(s). … (and right now you have no idea how hard I'm crossing my fingers that you guys will still keep reading despite that).

And in case you're wondering, 'Why Grace'? Let me offer you this. In an abusive relationship, what is one of the first things the abuser tries to do? He/she tries to push away all of his/her mates friends/family … because without a support network, the victim only has the abuser. Copy/paste that idea here … Jack's social network is Grace. Take her out of the equation and he's got no one to turn to … save, ta-da, Wuya … who, posing as his mother can manipulate the ever living tar out of him.

At the same time I should probably point out here that Wuya is more then two-dimensional evil here. Piled atop her apparent lack of conscience, she's also human and capable of change. Now, I'm not going to tell you if that change comes to late (or even at all) … (because seriously, if I ruined the mystery what fun would there be in reading the fic?) … but I will tell you this … The ending (… you know, ten years from now when we reach the ending given my update style /headdesk/) will surprise the shit out of you. Promise.

2) People can't punch bombs into other people's boobs.

… My guess is that most robots can't either. But Jack-bot/Robo-Jack can. My guess is that the majority of you already caught it … but that was definitely Jack-bot dealing with Katnappe. My point in this scene is to show that a) Wuya is absolutely fucking ruthless; b) Jack-bot is a robot and has absolutely NO conscience and is thus the perfect minion; and c) plot setting for later, when Katnappe takes part in a plan so apparently wrong that it makes physically sick (… though I suppose that could partly be blamed on all the threats, pain, and watching her pets get killed in front of her).

3) … oh come on. You all wanted a naked Raimundo. Don't even try to deny it.

Er … I mean. Raimundo's already shattered psyche is now getting fucked with magic. Obviously more Raimundo angst is coming (though come on folks! He's doing better! He didn't cry, hit somebody or anything this chapter! So see? Good things are bound to start happening too!).

4) That dvd was how Grace knew what Raimundo looked like (… if anyone even remembers that plot point way back in … /checks notes/ chapter six). /Shurgs/ not really vital, but thought I'd mention it.

… and I think that pretty much covers my bases.

So let me just reiterate one last point … the point I reiterate every chapter.

For those of you who have favored this story or me … thank you.

For those of you who have reviewed this story … thank you (…and for those of you who think your reviews don't matter … I totally changed Jason's name to Ryan in the early drafts of this chapter … until I checked my old reviews and was like … 'wtf? Who the hell is Jason?' … and then I bashed my head against my desk and felt really really stupid).

Hell, for those of you who have stuck with me this long and just read this story … thank you.

And that's really it.

So until next time folks …

-Shiva's Avatar-


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